


Impurities

by Chatvert



Category: Iron Man: Armored Adventures
Genre: Blood, Creepy shit, Demonic Possession, Drugs, Eldritch Abominations, Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medical Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chatvert/pseuds/Chatvert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deal with Doom had been for three pure souls, but one didn't fit the criteria. Even after sealing the demon away,  Yogthulu's got a beady eye or seventy upon the one it deemed least worthy... (Spoilers through s2e20, "Doomsday"; AU branching after "Doomsday".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patient Zero

His armor is gone.  
  
Something unseeable and unknowable has reached out, and snared his mind, and revealed itself to him.  
  
It is _gigantic_. It is so vast as to be unknowable, and contemplating its true size and scope causes the human brain to immediately enter a state comparable to a Microsoft Windows stop error. Its previous form must have been a courtesy to mortals, or perhaps a necessity of conducting business. His eyes sting and water from merely looking at it as his brain attempts to put together what it sees in any sort of logical or even illogical order.  Calling this iteration monstrous would be a disservice to actual monsters, who worry about this being’s minor, distant relatives under _their_ beds.  
  
There is a persistent taste in his mouth of electrified copper, and a loud, inescapable, tinnitus-like tone emanating from everywhere that makes his ears sing and his bones shake. He is held immobile, and yet the world whirls around him, his gaze fixed upon the alien being. Something deep in the most instinctual part of his brain knows that even if he could close his eyes, it would not impair his ability to see the being.  
  
Its multiple eyes, dark and beady, fix on him, and his heartbeat stops.  
  
Then, the largest eye, which had been lidded, slowly opens.  
  
It burns, that gaze. It burns like searing skin and radiation and frostbite, making even the very concept of joy evaporate, replaced only by eternal despair. He’s screaming, he _knows_ he’s screaming, except his mouth is shut and there is no sound.  
  
He can feel something scraping around the inside of his mind none too gently, something incomprehensible examining the lesser life form before it. The tone changes to that of steel on stone, interrupted with brief bursts of static - or at least, what his brain interprets as static - that are no less painful. He feels like he is being torn apart, shredded, agonizingly broken down to the molecular level by the gaze of this beast. It seems to take days, and it seems to take an instant. With nothing to compare it to, time becomes illusory.  
  
One loud, shrieking burst of static sounds, and for the first time in his life, he prays for death.  
  
The eye blinks.  
  
The world re-forms around him, and he stumbles with the sudden shift in perception. It feels like someone has gone over the inside of his head with a cheese grater. His muscles are now under his control again; his armor is back, or never left. His throat is raw from screams that died unvoiced. There’s a wetness trickling down his face; he knows it’s blood.  
  
Furtively he glances at Tony, at Howard; neither of them seem to have experienced any adverse effects. Neither of them seem to have been examined at all.  
  
Yogthulu’s current form still inspires creeping terror, but Gene knows that nothing will ever live up to the crippling existential torment that is its true form. And if something does, he hopes he will never have to experience it. He would put out his own eyes, if he thought it would make a difference. He does not have to ask to know if they had seen it. They hadn’t. Neither of them appear to be bleeding. Neither of them appear to have been raked over by an intelligence so alien as to be indescribable.  
  
Just him.  
  
Somehow - thanks to the human mind’s incredible capacity to delay the processing of trauma until a more convenient time - he manages to join in the fight against Doom without collapsing. He manages to free Howard and send Tony on his way. He manages to retrieve the ninth ring and he manages to teleport away without accidentally-on-purpose ending up at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.  
  
When he is sure he is alone, he unmanifests the armor, falls to his knees, and weeps.  
  
Only some of the tears are blood.

*

Looking in a mirror had been a bad idea, since he looked like something out of a horror film, with blood trailing from his eyes, nose, and ears, but not otherwise injured. Once he’s cleaned himself up, he sleeps, or tries to. Mistake. The very second he closes his eyes he's back there again, under the terrible scrutiny of the many piercing eyes of Yogthulu. And he can’t wake up, no matter how hard he tries. The creature continues to sift through his mind, through his memories, through his secrets, and he is once again held immobile and unable to even scream.  
  
After what feels like hours of torment, of pain, he is finally released, and he gasps, sitting bolt upright, his heart pounding double-time as adrenaline floods through his system.  
  
Approximately seven minutes have passed.  
  
He collapses back on the bed, gasping with terror, his shoulders heaving in near-silent sobs. He winds his fingers around the rings dangling from his necklace, clutching them the way someone might clutch a rosary for comfort.  
  
The copper taste is back in his mouth again. He raises his free hand to his ear; it comes away bloody.  
  
He can't risk falling asleep again. Not if that's what's going to happen when he does.  
  
He stumbles to his feet, reeling at the sudden change in orientation. It feels like his inner ear is lagging about a second behind the rest of his head. He coughs; something is trying to struggle up his raw throat. He tries to keep moving, and the coughing forces him to his knees. A gobbet of darkness tumbles out of his mouth, about the size of a fist; it melts into the floor and disappears as he watches, stunned. His headache gets worse.  
  
Gene goes to clean up the blood again. And this time, he's not going to fall asleep.  
  


*

It's seventy-six hours before he's exhausted every possibility he can think of to stop this from continuing. He’s continued to bleed intermittently and almost randomly with no discernible cause, and coughed up two more globs of shadow - but at least he's mostly managed to stay awake. It's gotten so bad that he sees afterimages of Yogthulu's true form every time he blinks. He's consumed enough coffee to power a small city, and even then he falls asleep for whole seconds at a time during the course of his research, awakening with a yell of horror after what seems like agonizing hours of torment.  
  
One possibility remains, and it's the possibility he's deliberately saved for last.

*

Even using the rings is a strain, and when he teleports into the Armory his armor vanishes and he collapses to the ground, breathing heavily. He tries not to shut his eyes, but even a glassy-eyed stare into the middle distance could also sometimes let the darkness seep in. He needs to stay alert, no matter what, even if slipping into somnolence, into madness, is tempting. He hopes he's alone, and hopes he's not alone. But if he's not alone, he hopes Tony is alone. This is enough of a wound to his pride on his own; if Pepper and Rhodes are there again, he might literally die of shame.  
  
"Oh my God, what--" Gene can hear Tony say, along with the clattering of metal and the powering up of a repulsor beam. " _You_."  
  
No other voices means that Tony is, mercifully, alone. "What are you doing back here?" he demands, and Gene knows he's taking aim.  
  
" _Stark_ ," Gene breathes, trying to struggle to his hands and knees. Using the rings seemed to accelerate whatever was happening; he could feel himself leaking blood again. It had become a disconcertingly familiar sensation.  
  
"You--" Tony gulps, and the gauntlet lowers a little. "You don't look so good."  
  
That makes Gene laugh, which is a bad decision. The laugh turns into a cough, and this time it produces blood. Bright blood. He's finally able to get into a sitting position, still breathing raggedly, and leans his head back, looking up, as the world tilts crazily around him. He tries to focus on Tony’s face. It’s difficult.  
  
"You didn't see it," he says finally, his voice still hoarse from all of his suppressed screaming. "It didn't show you."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Y--" No good; as he attempts to say the eldritch being's name, he starts coughing again. More droplets of red spatter his hand. "You know damn well," he says weakly once he can speak again. “That--that _thing_.” He breathes heavily as the world seems to take a sharp left turn. “It didn’t show you...what it really looks like. What it really is. It’s doing this to me. As...punishment.” He refocuses his eyes on Tony’s confused yet wary face, and tries to smile with red-stained teeth. “You’re the only person I can...go to, about this, as sad as it is. At least, the only one I can trust to not try and kill me on sight.” Gene exhales, and slowly falls over onto his side. Aside from hearing Tony’s brief shout of alarm, he doesn’t quite notice. The world’s gone sideways anyway. “Maybe...maybe I should have gone to someone who would. Make this a lot easier.”  
  
Tony kneels down into his field of vision, still a safe distance away. Gene recognizes that dimly as a smart move on his part; he’d have done the same in Tony’s place in case it was a ploy. “I’m pretty sure I hate you,” Tony says, frowning, “but I’m pretty sure I don’t want you to die, either.”  
  
Gene lets out another wheezing laugh. “You’re funny,” he says, just as unconvincingly as he did back on the glacier. “Keep me awake. Keep me _here_.” His vision films over red in one eye; Stark apparently notices, and recoils at the sudden sight of blood. He blinks a few times, risking the Eye, and the blood is gone.  
  
“How long have you been awake?” Tony asks cautiously.  
  
“Since before...last time,” he says. “Give or take.”  
  
“Four _days_?”  
  
“Haven’t eaten, either. Can’t keep anything down.”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
Gene feels Tony’s hand on his, which is nice, until he realizes that Tony is taking the rings off of him, which is not so nice. He’s too weak to fight it, though, and summoning the armor or using the rings’ power would probably kill him. He’d point this out to Tony if he could still remember how to use words.  
  
He can feel himself succumbing to exhaustion. His vision's growing dim. "I swear to God, Stark, if I fall asleep...you better try like hell to wake me up."  
  
"What happens when you fall asleep?"  
  
"It _sees_ me," Gene says, before his whole field of vision goes dark.  
  
And it sees him again.  
  


* * *

"Oh, _hell_ ," Tony says, trying against his own better judgment to rouse Gene. He's almost totally unresponsive; if not for his shallow breathing, Tony would be sure that he had died.  
  
There had been a particular note of desperation in his voice near the end, one Tony had never heard from Gene before. It almost sounded like begging. Like pleading. And then, 'It _sees_ me,' a sentence that sent a chill running down his back with the matter-of-fact horror in Gene's voice. For all of his many, many faults, Tony knew that Gene Khan did not scare easily. And he almost wished he knew exactly what Gene was afraid of.  
  
He'd seen the demon lord, same as his dad, and neither of them suffered any lasting effects (save for the joint agreement to avoid lobsters or anything resembling lobsters for the foreseeable future). But then, Tony wasn't collapsed unconscious and half-mad on the floor of his worst enemy's home base. Gene had said that they hadn't seen it, not _really_. And clearly something had happened to him to make him bleed randomly and afraid to sleep.  
  
He had been conscious this time, and hadn't tried to stop Tony taking the rings from him.  
  
That in and of itself was a red flag.  
  
He shakes Gene again, trying to wake him up; he might as well be shaking a corpse, for all the good it's doing.  
  
"Come on, wake up," he says lamely. He's not quite sure how to wake someone up when they can't be roused. He's had his own share of nightmares, particularly in the months following the plane crash (which he had Gene to thank for), but Gene looks like he's actually comatose. Or possibly dead. No normal person sleeps like that; then again, no normal person would be bleeding from most of his face, either. Who was he trying to kid? Neither of them could touch normal with a forty-foot pole.  
  
"What the hell am I supposed to do here?" he asks the unconscious guy who he'd once considered a friend. "Dammit, Gene, wake up!"  
  
Surprisingly, Gene does. His eyes fly open and he grabs Tony's shirt with bloodied hands, half-pulling Tony down and half-pulling himself up. "Just _kill me_ , Stark," he rasps, his voice half-gone, his eyes crazed. "Be merciful. Get it over with." Before Tony can react, Gene’s grip tightens and he grits his teeth as though in pain and whispers “ _No_ ,” before his eyes suddenly roll back in his head and his iron grip releases, and he passes out again.  
  
Tony is _thoroughly creeped out_. And also now covered in blood.  
  
Oh God. What is he going to do? His dad had claimed that he never could identify the kidnapping party and that he was just happy to be home with his son after the terrible ordeal, for reasons Tony could not fathom.  
  
“Come on, let’s _get_ the son of a bitch, dad!” he’d said when Howard had explained his decision not to go after his captor. “We can take him down, lock him up, do _something_!”  
  
“No, Tony,” his father had said, gently but firmly. “The law doesn’t _matter_ to him. Revenge is just going to make us all worse people. I don’t want more lives destroyed because of this. We’re all alive. We’re safe. That’s what matters, Tony.”  
  
What the hell is he supposed to do now? The son of a bitch has almost literally fallen into his lap, and on top of that, just begged Tony to kill him. He doesn't know if that's reverse psychology or what, but he did mean what he had said about hating Gene but not necessarily wanting him dead. They'd been friends, once, and maybe a little bit more; maybe Gene could toss that away once they had their falling-out, but not Tony.  
  
Absently he brushes a bit of hair out of his nemesis' face, remembering how it used to be; then his fingers touch blood, and he's reminded of how it _is_.  
  
No matter what, he can't allow anyone to discover the Armory. That leaves two people he can call.  
  
He calls them both.

*

"Are you _insane_?!" Rhodey is, as usual, the voice of reason. "He tried to kill us! He nearly killed _you_ , and kidnapped your dad! He blew up your plane, he used you to get the rings, and he's done so many other awful things that it'd take too long to go over all of them!"  
  
"I know," Tony says, casting his gaze to the ground. There's a spot of blood he's missed cleaning up by his shoe.  
  
"Besides," says Pepper, sitting in the sphere, "he _did_ ask you to kill him. It's probably for the best if you do." Tony glares at her. "I said _probably_!" She makes a face, her way of apologizing for her bad joke. "I mean, you can't just _keep_ him here," she says, gesturing with her head to the holding cell where Gene lies supine, one of Tony's old heart monitors jury-rigged to his vital signs. "Has he said anything else?"  
  
"No...I tried everything I could think of to get him to wake up again, short of blasting him with a repulsor," Tony says.  
  
"Shame," Rhodey mutters. Tony pretends not to hear. "So what are you going to do with him?"  
  
"I don't know," Tony says, "that's why I called you guys. I need ideas."  
  
"I'm not letting him bleed all over my car," Rhodey says.  
  
Pepper's still deep in thought. "I'm going to go check on him. Back in a second," she says, hops off of her perch, and proceeds towards the holding cell.  
  
Tony sighs as she leaves earshot. "Do you think she still likes him?"  
  
"Well, she likes Justin Hammer - I think it’s safe to say she’s got pretty bad taste in crushes." Rhodey glances towards the cell as Pepper opens the door, trying to keep an eye on her. “So what _are_ we gonna do about him?”  
  
“I don’t know, stop asking me,” Tony says miserably. “If we take him to the hospital, it’ll be too public, and we’ll have to make something up about how he got here, and if we put him in the facility in Stark Tower, dad’s going to find out, and then he’s going to ask a lot of questions.”  
  
“Probably the first one is going to be about why he came to _you_ , huh?”  
  
“Yeah, and _where_...dad doesn’t know I’m Iron Man. And I don’t really want to tell him, you know? What if he makes me stop?”  
  
“What about SHIELD?” Pepper asks, walking back to them. “I mean, they’ve looked after other bad guys before.”  
  
“Yeah, but they were going to let the Living Laser die if I hadn’t made letting me help him a condition of working on the Helicarrier,” Tony points out. “I don’t think that’ll work again.”  
   
Pepper bites her lip. “From what I saw, there doesn’t seem to be a change. It’s...kind of weird.” Her tone turns concerned. “If he hasn’t eaten in four days, Tony...we really should take him into the hospital. Or something. That can’t be healthy.”  
   
“Yeah,” Tony says, nodding. “We’ll take him to the facility at Stark Tower. At least we can keep an eye on him there. And, Rhodey?” Tony stares at him expectantly for a few seconds.  
   
Rhodey sighs, then glares at Tony. “If he bleeds on my car, _you’re_ paying for the deep-cleaning.”


	2. Iatrotropic Symptoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gene's condition worsens. Aaannnddd here's where things start getting really upsetting. It only gets darker from here.

Gene’s eyes snap open and all he can see is blindingly bright light. His heart is pounding in his own ears like a kettle drum, and he dimly remembers grabbing hold of Tony’s shirt and commanding Stark to kill him. That feels like something that happened weeks ago, and yet it feels like he had only blinked. The world is still whirling around him; his breathing is harsh and heavy, and he’s slowly focusing on the real world. Not everything is pain, which is his only indication that he’s not stuck under the gaze of Yogthulu, and he can hear the regular beeping of medical equipment.

Stark didn’t kill him. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

Speak of the devil himself - Stark leans over into his field of vision. “You’re awake,” he says, sounding...relieved?

“Where are they?” Gene croaks, twitching his fingers on his right hand. His left feels heavy.

“I have them,” is all Tony says, and puts his hand on top of Gene’s, stilling his fingers.

“They’re _mine_ ,” Gene snarls, or tries to, but he can’t keep the rancor up for long. It’s too exhausting. He glances around the room, at the machines and tubes attached to him. He takes a deep breath, or tries to - it feels like there’s something sitting on his chest. “How long was I out?” His voice still sounds raspy in his own ears; it probably sounds like he’s been gargling sand.

“Four and a half hours.”

Gene nods a little, like that makes sense. Tony could have fed him literally any number and he would have had to believe it. “Why didn’t...you kill me?”

“I said I didn’t want you to die. I meant it.”

Gene breathes out. “I’m in Stark Tower?”

“Lucky guess.”

“How did I get here?”

“Rhodey’s car.”

Gene closes his eyes in irritation, then immediately opens them again when he feels his skin begin to burn. “Yeah, he wasn’t too happy about it either,” Tony says. “They’re getting some soda.”

“What did you tell them?” Gene asks.

“The truth.”

Gene starts to cough, and he can tell what’s going to happen. No, he doesn’t want Stark to know about this, so he tries to wave him away, tries to curl up, but there’s too much keeping him restrained. He doubles over as the bit of shadow struggles up his throat, and the instinctive revulsion and need to get it out of his body takes over any hesitation he might have. Stark’s smacked the call button, but he’s otherwise dumbfounded.

The shadow flows out of his mouth like silk, pooling on the floor and moving towards the door. It melts into the linoleum and disappears in front of Pepper and Rhodes.

Pepper says nothing, eyes wide, and runs off. Rhodes just stares.

Gene’s bleeding from his nose again, and despite himself, he laughs a little at their incredulous expressions. “Didn’t get a chance to mention that earlier,” he says weakly.

Tony’s gone white. “What the hell was that.”

Gene grimaces in pain. “A side-effect.”

A doctor rushes in, responding to the call, and the two visitors slip out.

* * *

“What. The hell. Was that?” Rhodey demands, cornering Tony near the vending machine. “Did I hallucinate something or did he literally cough up a shadow?”

“Uh, I think that just really happened,” Tony says, still pale, and fumbles for some cash to feed the soda machine.

“Great, now I need to have my car exorcised,” Rhodey says, checking his phone. “And Pepper’s not responding to my texts.”

“That’s really weird, for her,” Tony says, and pounds the button for a Coke. There’s a rumble and the machine spits the can out. He cracks it open, raises it to his lips, and--

“Guys!”

Tony chokes on the soda. Rhodey jumps.

“Jeez, Pepper, warn a guy,” Tony says, turning around. “Where’d you run off to?”

“I have seen _way_ too many horror movies to be the first person who dies when someone starts puking darkness,” Pepper says, and tosses a bundle each to Tony and Rhodey. “Catch!”

Rhodey opens his. “Salt packets?”

“Cleaned out the whole cafeteria downstairs,” Pepper says, nodding. “Also ran to the church around the corner and filled my water bottle with some holy water. Pretty sure the priest won’t mind.”

“Pepper, this is... _crazy_ prepared,” Tony says. “And a little bit just plain crazy.”

Pepper frowns at him. “I’m just waiting for his eyes to go pitch-black and for him to start spider-walking. I mean, he says that some sort of crazy H.P. Lovecraft reject that is unable to be comprehended by the mortal mind has been looking at him, and he’s bleeding from the face, and he’s been coughing up crazy disappearing darkness...I don’t know about you guys, but I think those are pretty classic symptoms of being an unwilling vessel of demonic possession.”

“Don’t we need an old priest and a young priest?” Rhodey points out rhetorically.

"He's not possessed," Tony says.

"How do you know?" Pepper gets right up in his face.

“Because...he hasn’t been acting particularly demon-y,” Tony says. “I mean, he’s been acting like a _dick_ , but I think that’s just how he is.”

“ _He blew up your plane and left you to die_ ,” Rhodey says vehemently.

“That _is_ pretty dickish,” Pepper agrees. “But I still think there’s some weird stuff going on with what happened in the alternate dimension.” She wiggles her fingers during those last two words, trying to add a faux-spooky effect to them. “And the salt and holy water couldn’t hurt. Unless he is actually a demon. Then, it would probably hurt. Him, I mean. Not us.”

Tony’s phone beeps, and he takes a look at it. “They’re taking him for an MRI now. They say he...doesn’t want to be alone.”

“You put yourself down as his emergency contact?” Rhodey asks.

Tony shrugs. “Who else does he have?”

*

The trio proceed down the hall, Rhodey calmly trying to remind Tony why Gene wasn’t worth his time or effort. Just before they enter the MRI room, Tony turns to him.

“Would you have just let him die?” Tony asks.

“Probably not, but if your positions were switched, I _know_ he would have killed you,” Rhodey says stubbornly.

“That’s the thing, though,” Tony says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re better than that. We have to be. Look, I’m not crazy about this either. But...I guess I take dad’s advice a little more seriously than I did before the crash, now that he’s back. Gene’s going to pay the price for what he’s done. He might be doing that already, with all this. But it’s not our place to make it worse. I mean, I took the rings from him. He’s...I wouldn’t say _harmless_ now, but it’s not like he can teleport away or use mind control or set anyone on fire.” And before Rhodey can argue with him, he opens the door and enters the room, effectively postponing the argument.

“I still think he should be in jail,” Rhodey mutters, and follows him.

“Juvie, actually, unless he’s tried as an adult, which is likely,” Pepper says, knowing nobody’s listening to her, and enters.

Gene is lying down on the MRI scanner, half-propped up. He waves weakly at them as they enter, like he’s forgotten that nobody in the room is happy to see him. Maybe it’s just better to see some familiar faces, Tony thinks, with a pang of sympathy. His own convalescence had been bad enough when Rhodey and his mom had been looking after him. Having the only people you can go to as people who probably wouldn’t care if you died at worst and want to see you in prison at best...that would be hard.

“You came back,” he says, like he can’t believe they didn’t ditch him.

“Yeah, of course. You’re our problem now,” Tony says, and that makes Gene laugh. The blood’s been cleaned up again; aside from the breathing tube in his nose and the fact that his glasses have been taken away, he almost looks normal.

“Thanks,” he says, and he actually sounds sincere. “I don’t want my eyes covered for the scan, in case it happens again. I’d feel better if...if someone was here for it. So I have something else to focus on.” He breathes out. “Didn’t expect to see you guys again.”

“Like Tony said, you’re our problem now,” Pepper says. “So we’ll help you out.”

“Even though you don’t deserve it,” Rhodey adds, to an elbow in the ribs from Tony.

Rather than argue the point, Gene leans back, looking at the ceiling. “You’re right. I don’t.”

_Well_ that’s _weird_ , Tony thinks, and judging by the sidelong glances Team Iron Man shares, Pepper and Rhodey agree with him about that. He's far from being the haughty jackass they're used to. He seems almost resigned about what's going on; subdued, even. He hasn't gone on a tirade about the rings, or being the last Khan. But then, it's not like he's been able to talk much, either. For the first time in a long time, Gene seems small and alone, like the teenager he is instead of the man he's trying to be.

Whatever's going on, whatever Gene's experiencing, Tony's pretty sure he wants it to stop.

“We’re going to start the scan now,” the technician says, and Gene nods. He looks strained, like he’s putting on a brave face, but maybe that’s just the lack of sleep. He leans back fully, lying flat, and the machine moves to begin the scan. Tony sits nearby. Pepper and Rhodey seem more interested in the results of the scan, and go over to the technician to examine that in real time.

The scan proceeds without incident for fifteen minutes. At some point during the fifteen minutes, Gene’s hand has ended up in Tony’s; any reaction from Gene was surely lost in the roar of the MRI machine, but he didn’t yank his hand away.

At minute sixteen, things begin to go awry.

Gene’s grip suddenly tightens like a vise on Tony’s hand, and Tony can hear him gasping for air. There are noises of alarm from Pepper, Rhodey, and the technician; clearly something’s happened that’s visible on the scan. The technician hits the ‘STOP’ button on the console, and the machine winds down, ejecting the patient. Rhodey’s gone for the call button, jamming it repeatedly until help arrives; the technician is shouting about sudden pulmonary edema. Gene is choking, convulsing, thrashing around with his mouth open like a landed fish. He looks terrified.

Two doctors and a nurse enter the room with a crash cart, yelling about tracheal intubation and rocuronium. Tony steps out of the way, or tries to, because Gene won’t let go of his hand. He’s clinging for dear life, actually hurting Tony with the strength he’s using to grasp his hand, and once again Tony is helpless to deal with the situation. All he can do is watch as his friend is dying.

It takes a long, long minute for the rocuronium to kick in well enough for the medical professionals to insert the tubing down his throat and begin fixing the problem, a minute in which Gene’s strength wanes and his hand eventually releases Tony’s and drops to hang limply off the edge of the machine. Tony gets out of the way and looks at his own hand. There are deep crescents dug into his skin. Blood wells up in one of them, and the rest look like bruises.

He looks back at Gene. There’s liquid coming up the tracheal tube. Blood. Lots of blood. It drains into a bag one of the doctors has prepared; Tony can read that the bag can hold half a liter of blood.

It takes two bags before the tracheal tube finally clears.

His pulse stabilizes, and Gene begins to breathe normally again. It’s the same shallow, ragged breathing as before, but he’s not drowning anymore, and that helps Tony breathe normally again too. The doctors and nurse lift Gene onto a stretcher and wheel him off once the danger has passed.

Tony half-collapses onto the nearby chair, his knees suddenly weak. His uninjured hand goes straight to his hair as he stares, shaking, at the wounds made by Gene’s nails.

Pepper runs up to him and hugs him. He looks at her and tries to smile, but it’s clear that the event has left him in some distress. Rhodey walks over, looking as shocked as Tony.

Nobody says anything for several minutes, until Pepper points out that everybody would do well with something sweet for the shock, and they eventually adjourn to the alcove with the vending machines again.

*

An hour later, the primary doctor who’s been taking care of Gene finds them all in the waiting room with the wrappers of several chocolate bars each, and, after shepherding the trio into an empty exam room, gives them the rundown.

“During the MRI, if you’ll observe the video of the scan, everything seems to be proceeding as normal. But here - there’s suddenly a large volume of blood showing up on the scan at 16:07.” It was remarkable - between one breath and the next the scan had _changed_. It doesn’t look particularly unusual to Tony except in its immediacy, but he’s no doctor. And he doesn’t need to look at scans to know that Gene had been in some severe distress right around that time.

The video stops abruptly after that due to the scan being aborted. “He seems to be doing reasonably well now, with no long-term effects from basically drowning,” the doctor says. “There doesn’t even seem to be any reason his lungs would have filled up with blood in the first place. There were no wounds or lacerations. We tested the blood that appeared during the scan, and we found some disturbing information. The blood we extracted from his lungs was type B negative. His blood type is O positive.”

“So...it wasn’t his blood?” Rhodey asks.

The doctor nods. “We ran multiple tests to be sure the equipment wasn’t contaminated. The DNA is a partial match. And...the mitochondrial DNA is a perfect match.”

“What does that mean?” Pepper asks, dread in her voice, because Tony knows she did better at biology than both him and Rhodey and is really hoping that there’s an alternate explanation for what she just heard.

“It means,” says the doctor, “that we believe the blood is his mother’s.”


	3. Experimental Drug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this Halloween update, there are both tricks AND treats!

“Pepper, you realize that if this were a normal hospital and not the one in Stark Tower, we'd have been kicked out a long time ago, right?" Rhodey asks as Pepper tears open yet another salt packet.

"Luckily for all of us, it is, and we haven't," she says, and pours it out on the floor, kneeling to form it more into the border of a circle.

"You've been wanting to do some kind of crazy demon-fighting deal for a really long time, huh?" Tony asks, helping her shape the salt border.

"Ever since I saw _The Exorcist_ when I was seven," she nods.

"Why were you watching _The Exorcist_ when you were _seven_?!"

"I was bored, duh,” Pepper says, as if that explains everything. “Anyway, that lasted until dad got the FBI job when I was nine, and then I wanted to be a SHIELD agent." She bites her lip. "I guess the other kids were happy I was only trying to arrest them instead of, you know, casting demons out of them."

"...Pepper, I swear, you scare me sometimes," Rhodey says, and gets to work on the salt line.

"Only sometimes?" Tony asks.

"Most of the time," Rhodey concedes. They're joking around, acting like everything is totally normal, but they're all keeping a weather eye on Gene's status. He's sleeping again, or engaging in a rough approximation thereof, with a respirator hooked up in case he stops breathing again. The doctors have no idea what's going on, and Tony's glad for a moment that he didn't go to a public hospital with this. Mass panic is not high up on his list of things he needs today.

"Do you think this is going to work?" Tony asks.

Pepper sighs. "I hope so. I can only put up with so much weird crap at a time, and someone drowning in their own mom's blood out of nowhere is beginning to reach the peak of my creeped-out threshold."

Tony flexes his right hand, which has since been bandaged and the cut disinfected. "Yeah, tell me about it. Do you think he knows?"

"The doctor said he'd been sedated once they'd managed to get his breathing back to normal," Rhodey says. "If they told him, I don't think he'd ever sleep again, drugs or no drugs." He shudders. "Damn, _I_ might never sleep again after this."

"He's trying not to sleep anyway," Tony says, with a glance up at the hospital bed. If Gene’s not sleeping, he’s doing a pretty good impression of it, because he hasn’t reacted. Considering how defensive he used to get (and probably still does, though Tony hasn’t pushed the issue recently) about Zhang being his stepfather, any weirdness regarding his real parents would probably be a surefire way to make him either snap or shut down entirely.

Tony understands.

“I guess he’s not going to be too happy about being under sedation,” Rhodey says, standing up and dusting off his hands. The salt line is finished.

“It’s not like they had another choice,” Tony says, half to himself, feeling sorry for Gene against his own better judgment. If what he had told Tony was true, he’d find no peace in sleep. Especially not enforced sleep.

“Whoo, I’m hungry,” Pepper says, stretching as she stands. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could eat a horse. Preparing for an exorcism is _really_ hard work!”

“I could stand some food,” Rhodey says. “Tony?”

“You guys go on ahead,” Tony says. “I’m going to follow up with the doctors. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

“We’ll save some Jello for you,” Pepper says, and yanks Rhodey out of the room. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Tony sits down in the chair in the room, reluctant to leave Gene alone. Like he’d said, Gene’s _his_ problem now; Tony doesn’t want to abandon him.

* * *

Coming back to consciousness is like swimming through mud - which is somehow awesome. Everything is awesome. Everything in the world is so incredibly _awesome_. Gene’s body is heavy and his limbs are tingly and warm and everything is amazing and fantastic and awesome.

It occurs drowsily to him that he is probably coming up on some sort of painkiller, and that the last thing he remembers is not being able to breathe. He breathes once, experimentally. Nope, no problems there. Breathing might be boring, but breathing is good. Air is good. Everything is happy and awesome and good.

Something should be bothering him. Something about jewelry. He doesn’t feel like he’s wearing rings but he can’t feel much of anything except tingly warm happiness right now, so it’s probably not all that important.

He sighs happily. Maybe he’ll go back to sleep.

Except going back to sleep is not happy or awesome. Going back to sleep is... _bad_?

_Badness_ is very nearly a foreign concept right now, but he trusts his own judgment, because he is great and always has very good judgment as well as perfect hair.

He rolls his head to the side; there’s a shape sitting down in the chair, and he assumes the person belonging to the shape is human, but he can’t quite focus his eyes, because that takes a lot of effort and effort is boring anyway. The shape moves, turning to look at him. “Gene?” it says - and it sounds a lot like Tony.

It’s Tony! This is exciting.

Now there are _two_ Tonys! That’s even more exciting! He tries to focus, and one of them goes away; just the one Tony, actually. Marginally less exciting but still _exciting_!

“Hiiii,” he says dreamily, his words muffled by the respirator.

“Wow, they really _did_ dose you up,” Tony says, and Gene smiles because that sounds funny because everything is funny and great. “Want me to take off the respirator?”

“Uh-huh.” Gene nods with his head sideways. Tony reaches over and unhooks the mask from around his ear, and Gene resists the foolish urge to press the side of his face into Tony’s hand like a cat. “What did they put me on?”

Tony glances at the IV drip. “Dilaudid. It’s a hydromorphone. Which probably explains why you’re pretty loopy right now.”

Gene nods again. Tony’s saying words and it’s great. He should always be saying words. He’s vaguely aware that he’s grinning like a fool. “That would...that’d explain it.” What’s that Tony’s got on his hand? It’s white. Gauze? Why would there be gauze on his hand? With some effort, Gene manages to raise his hand and poke at it. Yeah, that’s gauze, all right. “Your hand.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Tony looks at it. “You got me pretty good.”

“I did that?” Gene’s bewildered. Mostly he just remembers intense claustrophobia and choking and darkness, and with the darkness came -- best not to think about it.

“When you were...drowning...in the MRI machine,” Tony says. “You had my hand, and you just started trying to crush it. You got me with your nails.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.” He breathes in, breathes out - not choking again. “I’m sorry for a lot.” Words are just unstoppably coming out of his mouth, like that first apology broke the dam. “I’m sorry. Tell Pepper, tell Rhodes I’m sorry. You’ll understand one day, when I have all the rings. I promise that you’ll understand.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, but looks down, like he doesn’t think that day is going to come anytime soon.

“You won’t hate me anymore,” Gene says, trying not to choke on the words, and the world gets a little less awesome with those words, because that’s an admission that Tony hates him and that’s _bad_.

“I don’t--I don’t know if I hate you,” Tony says, and it sounds like he’s in pain. Why does he sound like he’s in pain? That’s an awesome thing to say. Tony is awesome. “God _dammit_ , Gene, you were dying in that room and I was - I was terrified for you because I thought I’d be losing a - after all this I still think of you as my _friend_.” Tony scrubs at his face with his hands for a moment before turning back to Gene. “After everything you’ve done I still like you, and if I hate anyone for that I hate myself.”

“No,” Gene says, still high as a kite, patting Tony on the leg. “No. You’re great.”

Tony laughs bitterly. “Am I?”

“Sure.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Tony is great. “For some reason you haven’t killed me yet. And that’s pretty great.”

Tony laughs again, and replaces Gene’s hand back on the bed. His own hand lingers for a second before he removes it from the back of Gene’s. The warmth it leaves is really, really nice, and there’s a slight fizzing feeling there that has nothing to do with the Dilaudid.

Gene sighs and closes his eyes in resignation, and the sudden burst of adrenaline caused by what he sees and what sees _him_ when he does chases the drug from his system; he’s more alert now, less floaty, and it’s all coming back to him. His eyes snap open as he shouts in horror, and he grabs Tony's arm, pulling the startled teenager close. "Don't let them drug me again," he says, nearly nose-to-nose with Tony, tears in his eyes, the former mellowness of his tone replaced with near-pleading sobs. "Don't. Oh, God, it's so much worse when I'm sedated, don't let them drug me again, Tony, please!" His eyes are haunted. "Please, Tony. Please don't let them drug me again."

"Okay," Tony says, grabbing him by the shoulder and looking him directly in the eyes, "I won't. You're on a self-administered dosage now, looks like. Not timed. You push the button on that thing by your hand, it'll give you some painkillers, but only a little bit at a time."

"It's so much worse when you can't even try to fight it," Gene says, practically burying his face in Tony's shoulder. "You're just... _there_ , and it knows you can't do anything to stop it even more than usual. It's the waiting. It makes you wait for your torture and it's always, always worse than whatever you can come up with."

He's about to say more when he feels an odd sensation in his veins, a sort of spreading warmth heading up his arm from his IV, and he recoils. "Oh my God. Tony, I'm getting more of the drug - it's dosing me again, I can't--" And he gasps as there's a sudden pressure in his chest, like he's drowning again; he frantically looks for the device, and sees it sitting on his bedside table where Tony had looped the cord.

Neither of them had touched it, but they can see that something invisible is pushing the button down, holding it down, flooding Gene's system with the Dilaudid again. Gene gasps in both terror and relief as the drowning feeling fades from his lungs, replaced by that seductive, comfortable, numbing warmth.

"I need to focus on something, Stark, you have to help keep me here," he says, and digs his nails into Tony's arm. "Hurt me, talk to me, make a noise, _something_!"

"Okay, uh..." Tony says, wincing at the sudden roughness. "Uh, okay, focus, you need to focus..."

"Are you talking to me, or are you talking to yourself?" Gene hisses at him. He can tell he doesn't have a lot of time left in his right mind.

"Cut it out, I'm trying to help you here, okay?" Tony snaps right back. He nervously moistens his lips. “Just, uh...keep looking at me, I’m trying to figure this out.” One of his hands rests on top of Gene’s again, Tony’s thumb absently rubbing circles on his skin. Any smart remark Gene was going to swat back with is forgotten as he stares at his hand, then looks back up at Tony.

“Do that more,” he rasps. “It’s keeping me a little grounded." The warm fuzzies are still marching all around his body, but at least his brain's staying put.

"What?" Tony looks at what he's doing, nods, and moves his hand slowly up Gene's arm to his shoulder and neck. His eyes meet Gene's again, and Gene is trying so desperately hard to focus on what's going on around him that he can't help but notice the intensity in Tony's eyes, something teetering on the edge of loathing.

It is, and he should by all rights find this disturbing, _incredibly_ hot.

His mouth is suddenly dry; he licks his lips without thinking about it, and the intensity, the _fury_ in Tony's eyes darkens.

"You still miss me, don't you," Gene says in a low whisper, his hand resting lightly on Tony's upper arm. It's restrained slightly by the tubes and wires, and it feels heavy because of the painkiller, but he can at least move that much.

Tony shivers, unable to tear his eyes away. His hand is now resting gently on Gene's cheek. "You were my friend, Gene."

"Oh hell, I don't have time for this," Gene says, and reaches up with the last of his conscious strength to pull Tony in for a kiss. Tony's either too shocked or too confused to do anything about it but kiss him back, and Tony tastes like soda and worry and regret and the bubbles from the opiate finally reach his brain and he desperately tries to keep his focus on Tony because nothing else matters right now and he's not going back into that hell without one good memory to try and hold on to. His eyes are still open, though Tony's have since drifted closed, and he can't really see much of anything so he just keeps thinking about the rest of what's going on with the kiss, like how Tony's hand has shifted to the back of his head and his fingers have found purchase in Gene's hair or how his other hand is slowly creeping up Gene's side and how his skin on his arm still feels the aftereffects of Tony's touch and how Tony's very nearly been pulled out of his chair and is leaning over him and how he's let Gene take over the kiss but he's still far from submissive, and how when Gene does that thing with his tongue Tony moans quietly and it's too perfect and why are his eyes open anyway, they're drying out, that's dumb, he should close them, just for a minute.

He does, and then almost immediately jerks away, panting heavily, adrenaline fighting the hydromorphone and oxytocin that had been making him feel so amazing a second ago. His eyes are wild, his gaze flying all over the room, his heart pounding until his eyes fix on Tony, who's looking concerned. "Did I--?"

"No, it's...I slipped, I closed my eyes," Gene says, and Tony just runs his thumb over the outer curve of Gene's ear.

"I guess I'll have to try harder to keep you here," he says, and leans down and kisses Gene's neck and Gene twitches and squirms and moans because he's definitely high and Tony Stark is definitely making out with him again and this is _amazing_ , and his grip tightens on Tony's arm until Tony brings his attention back to Gene's mouth, and _God_ is it wonderful.

They carry on for a few moments more like that until Tony pulls away, his face unreadable. "Pepper and Rhodey are waiting for me downstairs," he breathes.

"Keep 'em waiting a little longer," Gene says, and pulls Tony back down. _What's the worst that could happen?_ his opiate-addled brain says, goading him on, because kissing Tony is better than not kissing Tony but it's probably not a patch on fucking Tony and anyway it's definitely better than Tony not being there at all.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Tony until Tony had made that familiar breathy moan that used to pop up in his dreams sometimes, when he could still dream. And now he's not certain he can ever let Tony go again, not without one hell of a fight. His eyes begin to drift shut again, but he forces them open, determined not to let the darkness take him just yet.

There's a gasp that he thinks is Tony at first, because he's been making Tony gasp a lot, and then Tony makes a surprised noise and pulls away. Gene rolls his head to the side to see what could possibly be so important as to interrupt them, and once his eyes can focus on the interruption he's half-tempted to screw his eyes shut and take his chances with Yogthulu, but he's transfixed.

Because he is looking straight at the deeply horrified face of Howard Stark.


	4. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse.

The dread Mandarin, Last of the Khans, true heir to the Makluan Rings and rightful ruler of the world, is doing a passable impression of a panicking dog wearing boots for the first time. A dog who, in his panic, has forgotten that he is also tethered to several medical devices.

His attempt to flee goes poorly, and not just because the Dilaudid has screwed with his inner ear.

It takes a few seconds of scrambling to move all his limbs in the correct order, if he can even move them at all, falling out of the bed, trying to get to his feet, looking like hell for an escape route that doesn't take him past the man he'd held captive for over a year. There’s pain in his arm; he’s beginning to rip out the IV with all of his panicked thrashing. Salt scatters around him, getting into the wound made by pulling on the IV. He has to escape. He _has_ to escape. Tony, he knows he can work on; Howard Stark will never let him free, not after what Gene’s done to him. And _especially_ not now.

Tony grabs him suddenly, pinning his arms to his sides, and the part of Gene that isn’t half-mad with terror is wondering just when the hell he got so strong. Tony lifts him up, puts him back on the bed, and glances meaningfully towards the button for the painkillers; Gene shakes his head once, quickly, his heart pounding in his ears like a rabbit’s. He can feel the effects of the Dilaudid creeping back into his brain; his legs are heavy again and the anxiety in his chest is battling the fuzzy feeling. He stays put, for now; he’d rather go down fighting than rot in a cell.

Tony exhales, and turns around to face the music. “Dad--”

“Tony, get away from him,” Howard says, his voice unusually level.

“Dad, I--”

“Tony.”

“I can expl--”

“ _Anthony Edward Stark_ , you will step away from that _son of a bitch_ this instant.” There’s steel in his tone, and Tony steps back, almost automatically.

Gene stares blearily at Howard as Tony tries to salvage the situation. “What the hell, dad?” Tony’s not very good at salvaging the situation. “How do you know him?” Oh, Tony’s playing dumb, because he knows damn well how his father and Gene are acquainted. But then again, there’s not much else he _can_ do but play dumb, or else he’ll have to explain why his father just caught him enthusiastically making out with the man he _knew_ had kidnapped his dad.

Gene is happy he’s not in Tony’s shoes right now. Then again, his own shoes are arguably worse shoes to be in during this entire fiasco, especially given the fact that he’s not even wearing shoes. Meanwhile, he realizes, Howard doesn’t know that Tony knows - so is he going to break it to his son that he just caught him not only making out, not only making out with a guy, but making out with the guy who was responsible for his kidnapping? 

If he wasn’t in the middle of this entire situation, Gene would find it endlessly amusing. As it stands, he still finds it amusing, and he’d probably find it amusing even if his bloodstream didn’t feel like it was at least 50% hydromorphone, except he’s also watching it as lucidly as he can for the subsequent fallout.

Jesus, if anyone had to have walked in on them, could it at least have been _Pepper_ instead?

“Because,” Howard says, his face a mask of fury, “ _he’s_ the one who kidnapped me and nearly killed you.”

Okay, so he went there. “What are you doing here? What do you want with my son?”

It would be utterly suicidal to say that it’s more about what _Tony_ wants in this case, which if Howard had seen more than a glance was obvious, but he almost says it anyway. Thankfully, before the drugs and impudence can cause an unfortunate and entirely accidental case of snapped neck, Tony intervenes, sounding appropriately bewildered. His acting’s improved some, Gene notes.

“Dad, we’re -- we were classmates, you’ve got to be mistaken,” Tony says. “He showed up...he was sick, really sick, so Rhodey and Pepper helped me get him here, for treatment. We’re...” he fumbles for the right word. “...friends.”

“No, Tony,” Howard says, his eyes cold. “I’m not mistaken. I know evil when I see it. Not so tough without your rings, are you?” The last part of that is directed towards Gene. Gene doesn’t deign to answer.

“To be fair,” Gene says instead, figuring it would be stupid if he played dumb because both other people in the room knew it was true and this was tiresome, “I didn’t think you had _actually_ brought him onto the plane. I thought you were just pleading for your life.”

“I wouldn’t _lie_ about that, Gene,” Howard says, turning on him, and Gene realizes that speaking up had been a bad decision. “I’m not a _coward_ like you.”

“I know that _now_ , clearly,” Gene says, and his eyes shut briefly of their own accord, which is in some ways a relief. Even the soul-rending torment of Yogthulu’s great Eye would be a blessing right now, and indeed there is torment to spare. It’s been waiting for him, after all. When he opens his eyes again, what feels like hours later but is only a few seconds in real time, one of them is bloodied. “You don’t know _fear_ , Howard,” he says as the blood rolls down his cheek, his voice suddenly hoarse. “You don’t know _evil_. You stood in front of that demon just like I did four days ago, and you’re not sitting where I am now. Every time I close my eyes, every time my mind so much as _wanders_ , I’m dragged in front of it. It’s not that centipede you saw. It’s not even close.” The blood is dripping onto the sheets now. “I can’t explain what it is, but it’s punishing me, _torturing_ me, for having what it called an ‘impure soul’.” He smiles sardonically, almost cruelly, at Howard. “How my soul is less pure than an arms manufacturer’s, I’ll never know. I almost feel accomplished.”

“Let’s go, Tony,” Howard says, and guides his son towards the door. “I don’t want you in here anymore, got it?”

“No, dad,” Tony says, stopping. “You always taught me to take responsibility for things. I found him. He’s my responsibility as long as he’s here.”

Howard gives him a long look. “Fine,” he says at length, “then I won’t have you or anyone else being alone around him.”

“Fine,” Tony says, and with one last look at the bleeding, insane boy his dad had just caught him making out with, he hits the call button for the doctors and leaves.

*

They get halfway down the hall before Howard sighs. “Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“For the record, I’m not mad at you for... _getting involved_...with a boy. Just...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Did it have to be _that_ boy?”

“Would you have preferred Whitney Stane?” Tony asks.

“For all her father’s faults, and there are many,” Howard says as they get into the elevator, “Whitney has never tried to kill me, and she’s never held me captive for sixteen months while the world, and you, thought I was dead.”

“Point,” Tony says.

“I mean it about being alone,” Howard says. “He’s dangerous. What happened to his rings?”

“I locked them up in a safe place,” Tony says. “Don’t worry about them. I noticed one of them looked exactly like your old one.”

“That’s because it is my old one.” The doors slide open on the ground floor, and Tony starts off towards the cafeteria. “Where are you off to?”

“Pepper and Rhodey are in the cafeteria, I was supposed to meet them,” Tony says as he keeps walking, not looking back.

Howard catches up with ease. “Look, Tony...I know it’s not easy to hear all of what you just heard at once like that.”

“No, really?”

“I mean it.” Howard sighs. “I don’t want you to get revenge on him for what he did. We have to be the bigger men here, Tony.”

“Okay, dad,” Tony says, and his tone of voice indicates that the conversation’s over. They enter the cafeteria.

“Hey, Tony!” Pepper says, waving him over, and pauses. “Oh, uh, and Mr. Stark! Hi!”

“What took you so long?” Rhodey asks when Tony makes it to their table a few seconds ahead of his dad.

“Dad found Gene and they started to have it out. Long story short, none of us are allowed alone in there with him,” Tony says. Pepper’s eyebrows go so high, they practically disappear into her hairline, but she doesn’t say anything. “‘Cause he’s dangerous.”

“James, Pepper, good to see you,” Howard says, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s late; how about we give you kids a ride home?”

*

Tony’s phone buzzes three hours later, when he’s trying to sleep. He ignores it, and then it buzzes five more times in rapid succession. _Pepper_.

He checks his text messages.

_From: Pepper Potts_  
Hey  
Tony  
Tony  
Hey  
Tony wake up  
Tony I have some important stuff to ask you wake up 

It buzzes again in his hand, this time with the message ‘Call when you can.’

He does.

“Pepper, it’s literally like four in the morning,” Tony says.

“ _I know, but I can’t sleep._ ” Her voice drops to a whisper. “ _You’re pissed at your dad, right?_ ”

“Maybe.”

“ _Why? What happened? Don’t give me anything about going to see the doctors and your dad found out about Gene and you got caught in the middle of it. What happened?_ ” There’s a long pause where Tony is trying to figure out a suitable lie to tell. “ _Did he catch you_ with _Gene_?”

“What?”

“ _You know. Like_ with _with. With with the guy you’ve had a crush on since he walked into science lab like a year ago._ ”

“Pepper, that’s...”

“ _Insanely accurate, I know. And I am disappointed, for obvious reasons._ ” There’s a pause. “ _Can’t decide if I’d be more disappointed if you were going out with Whitney again, but, come on, Tony, he’s practically my ex. You can’t date a girl’s ex, that’s just, like, the rules of feminism._ ” There’s another pause. “ _Oh yeah. And don’t forget that he’s tried to kill you, like, a lot. Even if he didn’t know it was you most of the time because he was trying to kill Iron Man. And that he might be possessed by a demon. Did the salt thing work?_ ”

“I don’t even know where to begin with this,” Tony says.

“ _Okay, so start from the end. How did the salt thing work out? I hope it was okay, I’d hate to use all that salt for nothing._ ”

*

Tony doesn’t sleep well that night. Pepper keeps him on the phone for an hour, and even when he finally manages to fall asleep he keeps having dreams that make the prospect of staying awake an appealing one indeed, if only so he doesn't have to deal with his subconscious, which had unhelpfully opted to provide him with a highlight reel of this and every other time he had made out with Gene. Which is annoying, because Tony's trying really hard to go back to hating his living guts.

And he's good at it, for a while. Then, just when he thinks he's safe, he flashes back to pinning Gene on the couch and making out with him until his glasses went askew, or the helpless, needy noises he'd made when Tony had kissed his neck last night, and all of that progress is undone.

That's why it's barely gone ten the next morning before Team Iron Man arrives back at Stark Tower. Once again, Tony is pretty sure that even with last night's horrible, horrible awkwardness, taking Gene to the SI mini-hospital had been the best choice. What are they going to do, tell him visiting hours aren't til later? He doesn't like to play the 'my dad pays your salary' card, but he will if he has to.

The more he thinks about it, the more he’s convinced that he actually just put Gene into a very well-appointed prison. He’s not sure if he likes that idea or not, but it’s serving a purpose right now.

At least while Pepper and Rhodey are with him, he’s not likely to do something he’ll regret.

“Aw, man, what happened to my salt?” Pepper asks as she walks into Gene’s hospital room.

“Got cleaned up overnight,” Gene says, lifting his eyes from the crossword puzzle he’s working on. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey. Ugh, Tony, you _really_ need to let people know they’re not supposed to disrupt the salt zone,” Pepper says, and withdraws a container of iodized salt from her bag.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow as Pepper re-does her salt circle around Gene’s bed. It goes considerably faster with a container that has a spout. “I’m not even really surprised that she has that.”

“Neither am I,” Gene says, and his gaze alights on Tony. “You’re quiet.”

“You look like you’re doing better,” Tony says, evading the implicit question.

Gene smiles wearily and taps the IV dispenser. “Too drugged up to really care about what’s happening to me. I think they put me on an anti-anxiety thing too. So if I’m doing better, I really can’t tell. But it’s not like that thing’s given up on messing with me.” His tone is almost lethargic, like he’s resigned to what’s happening to him. If it’s now been five days, five days of no real food and no rest, and God only knows how long he feels like he’s been tortured whenever he closes his eyes...Tony gets why he’s given up.

It’s really throwing a monkey wrench into the whole ‘hate his living guts’ plan.

“Brought you something to help keep you occupied,” Pepper says, and goes into her backpack for it. She comes up with a book; it’s a dog-eared copy of _A Dance with Dragons_. “Figured you hadn’t had a chance to get through this one yet.”

Gene smiles again, and even though his eyes are tired and hollow he looks like he appreciates the gift. “Thanks,” he says as she puts it on the little table next to his bed, “you’re right. I’ve been a little busy.”

Those few words shatter the fragile fiction they’ve all been holding in their heads that this is a normal visit to a normal classmate who has been hospitalized for something even remotely normal. None of those things are true.

The room gets really awkward, really quickly. Rhodey mutters something about it being crowded in there and slips out into the hallway.

“Anyway,” says Pepper at length, “you don’t have a lot else to do here, so...”

“Yeah. I think I still have that copy of the previous one you lent to me.”

Pepper shrugs. “Call it a gift. _Now_ ,” she says, looking at Gene and Tony with wide eyes, “I am going to go find the bathroom. I will probably get lost on the way there, because I don’t know this building very well. In the event that I get lost, _which is likely_ , I will probably be gone for half an hour. If I’m coming back before then, or if it looks like someone else will, Tony, I will text you. _Do not ignore that text_.”

Both of them are staring at her.

“I will be _back_ ,” she says, “I’m _just going to find the bathroom_ ,” and does an exaggerated comedy wink at both of them, and leaves.

There’s silence for a moment after the door closes. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” Tony says, sounding resigned. “She’s surprisingly perceptive.”

“And not at all subtle.” Gene sighs, and it’s like a weight settles on his shoulders. “I’m starting to miss time,” he says in a low tone. “I’m not sleeping. I know I’m not sleeping. I _can’t_ sleep. But I’m missing time all the same.” He ticks off things on his fingers. “It was quarter to five in the morning, and then suddenly it was eight. I - I wasn’t here, I wasn’t _there_...” There means being trapped under the gaze of the monster. Tony knows that.

“It’s just memory loss from not sleeping, probably,” Tony says.

“Three hours of total memory loss,” Gene says, sounding bitter. “With everything else going on? Not likely.”

Well, that clinches it: Operation: Go Back To Hating Gene is a rousing failure. Tony’s capable of a lot, but hating someone who’s clearly losing his mind in pieces to an unfathomable horror goes beyond his capabilities. He wants to hold Gene’s hand, kiss his forehead, tell him it’s going to be okay.

But Tony’s not going to lie to him like that.

“Is the salt helping?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know,” Gene says, shaking his head. “It was gone when I came to.”

“Look,” Tony says, placing his hand on Gene’s, “Rhodey, Pepper, and I are trying to figure out how to stop this. We’re going to help you fight this, however we can.”

Gene exhales, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Why are you doing this for me?” He sounds like he’s about to cry.

“You’re asking the same question Rhodey is, but he’s helping you anyway,” Tony says. “Because you’re one of us.” Tony smiles a little then. “Whether you like it or not.”

There's quiet for a moment. "I really am sorry it had to end up like it did," Gene says, still staring at the ceiling tiles. "Peru was supposed to be the end of it. How was I supposed to know there were any more rings?" This sounds like more of a confession than an apology to Tony in particular; Tony opts not to interrupt, and wonders if this is meant to be a deathbed one. "There was this... _horrible_ moment of doubt, afterwards," Gene continues. "I would have come back. Or I would have tried to. I just...I'd never had any friends before. So I didn't know how much any of you meant to me until it was too late." He laughs bitterly. "Throwing the rings away was supposed to be a grand gesture. I had given it up. I had given all of it up. And then...then I found out there were more." He shifts his head to look at Tony. "It was easier to chase after them than to come back. I thought...maybe when I really did have all of them, I could fix it." There's that bitter laugh again, a pained chuckle low in his throat. "Your father's right. I _am_ a coward."

“Don’t,” Tony says. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

He smiles crookedly. “I thought you didn’t like it when I lied to you.”

“I don’t, because you’re lying right now. You’re _not_ a coward.” Tony grips Gene’s hand.

“I am.”

“You came to me and asked for my help. That was brave.”

“I had no other choice.” Gene won’t meet his eyes now.

“Yes you did. You could have gone anywhere else, you could have just laid down and died, but you walked into the lion’s den. Or...teleported. Because you didn’t know if I would help, but you had to try anyway.”

Gene chuckles again, still looking elsewhere. “I know you better than you think, Stark.”

“Then you should know,” Tony says, using his other hand to lift Gene’s chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes, “I’m not going to let you give up so easily.”

He leans forward and kisses Gene briefly on the lips. Gene appears to be dumbfounded for several seconds afterwards.

“You know, when Pepper was being the least subtle person on the planet about leaving us alone, I really don’t think this is what she had in mind,” he finally manages, smiling weakly.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Several. Most of which are foiled by the fact that I’m attached to a heart monitor. We don’t want anyone rushing in and thinking something’s wrong, do we?”

Tony makes a face at him. “Spoilsport.”

“No, pragmatist.” He smirks. “I do appreciate the gesture though, coming from her.”

"She's thoughtful like that." Tony leans in to kiss him again, and that’s when his phone starts going crazy. He remembers Pepper’s warning. “Damn, hold on.” He smiles apologetically, pulls out his phone, and checks his messages.

_From: Pepper Potts_  
Stop  
Stop whatever you are doing  
Get to opposite sides of the room  
Find a window to jump out of  
And most importantly: HIDE GENE  
jusT DO IT  
NOW NOW NOW  
THIS IS NOT A DRILL 

Alarmed, Tony steps away, looking around to see if he can locate the source of the trouble. He texts back _What?_

“What’s going on?” Gene asks, visibly tensing.

“I don’t know,” Tony says as his phone goes off in his hand. “Nothing good.”

_From: Pepper Potts_  
I tried to hold him off, Rhodey gave me the heads-up  
You owe me big time  
BIG. TIME.

Just as Tony receives those texts, the door opens and he can see Gene’s expression transform from wariness to absolute loathing. The transition is frightening.

Nearly as frightening as the look of smug, diabolical glee on the face of Xin Zhang.


	5. Contraindication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, Zhang's here. (Step) fathers and (step) sons, and relationships both healthy and toxic.

“ _Get out,_ ” Gene snarls at Zhang, as menacingly as he can from a hospital bed.

“I have the right to visit my stepson in a hospital, especially when he has been missing for months.” The words are caring; the tone is cruel. Mocking, even.

“And _I_ have the right to tell you to _get. Out._ ”

Tony’s phone buzzes again. He glances at it.

_From: Pepper Potts_

Jeez, I fucking hate that guy.

_From: Tony Stark_

are you seriously outside the door right now

The faint _bing_ of Pepper’s phone not ten feet outside the door answers that question for him. Neither Zhang nor Gene seem to notice.

"A true Mandarin would not bother with idle chatter, he would _command_ authority."

Gene gets to his feet, using the wheeled IV pole for support. The other wires keep him from going too far, bare feet scattering the salt as he steps in it.

Zhang glances at his stepson's unadorned hands. "Where are the rings you stole from me?"

Gene laughs, then, a laugh with a rumbling cough at the bottom of it. "Stole? I never stole. Those rings are mine by right, and you'll never see them again. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

“Where are the _rings_ , child?”

Gene laughs again, coughs, and spits blood at Zhang’s feet. Zhang doesn’t flinch. “You don’t know the first thing about them. You know nothing of their power, or their price. You are no Khan.”

“And _you_ are no Mandarin. Cease your stalling and--”

“And you’ll what, exactly?” Gene smirks. “You have nothing to offer me, nothing to threaten me with. I’ve tasted terror beyond the likes of which you can possibly imagine, let alone inflict. There is nothing for you here. _Leave_.”

Zhang’s eyes narrow. “Do not presume to order me around, Temujin.”

“Do not presume to call me that!” Gene snaps. “That name was given to me by my mother. You _murdered_ her. You’re not fit to use the name she gave me.” He begins to cough again, instinctively half-turning away and burying his face in the crook of his arm to hide the result; Tony can still see shadows trickling down to the floor as Gene doubles over. It’s happening again.

Zhang sneers at him. "You are weak."

"Leave him alone," Tony says, stepping into the space between them.

"Still letting the Stark child fight your battles for you?" Zhang smirks. "Pathetic."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Zhang," Gene and Tony say simultaneously. The darkness had stained Gene's skin where it had touched, leaving marks that look like bruises which fade as Tony glances at them.

Zhang is taken aback. "You dare--!"

"Damn right we dare," Gene says, allowing Tony to help him up. Tony's not sure if that's a conscious decision on his part, but either way he's glad of it. He's shaking a little with the effort, and his skin is cool to the touch, but the defiant grin on his face is as alive as Tony's seen him since this fiasco started.

Neither of them are prepared for the backhand that catches Gene across the face. Gene falls to the ground, taking the IV pole with him. The metal clatters loudly when it hits the floor, and Gene wheezes with the impact. His glasses fall to the ground and skitter across the floor.

He gets to his hands and knees, slowly. "Hurts less without the ring," he says, and Tony realizes why he has that little scar by his hairline, and his heart shatters.

Tony steps fully between Zhang and Gene again, his eyes burning with anger. "Don't you ever touch him again," he says icily. "Even sick like this, he's ten times the man you'll ever be."

(His phone goes off; when he checks it later he'll see a text from Pepper reading "here comes the cavalry".)

Zhang ignores the buzz from Tony's pocket, and stares him down. "Insolent whelp. I will do with him as I please. He is my stepson!"

"Yeah, well he's _my_ friend," Tony says, standing his ground, "and I don't care _who_ you are to him, because _nobody_ gets to hurt my friends."

"I don't need you to stick up for me," Gene growls from the floor, still trying to get back to his feet. For all his anger at Zhang, the remark about Tony fighting his battles for him had apparently cut deeply.

"Tough," says Tony, balling his fists, "because I'm sticking up for you anyway." He returns his attention to Zhang. "Get out before I throw you out. Stepfather or not."

Zhang's response is almost certainly going to be "You and what army," but the door swings open to answer that question for him. Zhang turns to see Howard enter the room, followed closely by Rhodey and Pepper. Tony takes advantage of his distraction to help Gene to his feet again; Gene grouses about it, still sore about the verbal barb, but allows it, mostly because he can't stand up the IV pole by himself.

"What's going on here?" Howard asks, and Zhang speaks up before Tony can.

"Your son is exceptionally rude," he says.

"He's never been big on propriety," Howard says, frowning. "And why is there salt all over the floor?"

"Long story about the salt," Pepper says quickly.

"Zhang, why was your stepson on the ground?" Howard asks.

"Shit, I forgot, you two know each other," Tony says.

"Anthony, watch your language."

"You know the idiom 'beaten like a red-headed stepchild'?" Gene asks, smiling a little and tapping his bruising cheek. "Turns out the 'red-headed' part isn't mandatory."

"I also haven't had time to mention the time this guy kidnapped us and took us to Peru," Tony says casually, and he can see his father's eyes darken in anger. "Rhodey can back me up. So can Pepper and Gene."

"And he blew up half the old compound," Rhodey chimes in.

"And he tried to use me as a hostage," Pepper says. "It didn't work."

"And if my word's worth anything," Gene says, "he hurts people when they can't fight back." His tone is indifferent enough, but Tony, standing next to him, can feel his shoulders tense.

Tony’s not going to kid himself about the tipping point of his father’s anger - Howard has no affection for Gene, has no reason to even care about him - but Rhodey’s like a brother to Tony, has been for ages, and despite the fact that Howard’s known Pepper for less than a week it’s pretty clear that she’s good people.

But he hopes that maybe a little of that anger is on Gene's behalf.

"Is this true?" Howard asks Zhang. Rather than assume his father is doubting him, Tony recognizes this technique. He'd seen it used on Stane before; Howard Stark was a fan of letting people dig their own graves, as it were. Like hell he'd doubt Tony's word, especially with Rhodey and Pepper backing him up. What would they stand to gain from slander?

Naturally - and despite all evidence that would prove the truth of the accusations, including the bruise on Gene's face - Zhang lies like a rug. "Of course not. I deal in antiquities, why would I do such things?"

Howard nods pensively, says "I thought so," and punches Zhang right in the mouth.

Nobody had expected the punch, least of all Zhang; Tony glances at Gene, and there’s a strange, tight-lipped smirk on his face. Not exactly the reaction Tony had thought he might see - Zhang getting punched in the face would have led him to believe that Gene would be happier about it. Then again, he’s not well, and he’s never really been one for showing emotion anyway.

“Get out,” Howard says levelly to Zhang as he stands upright again. “I don’t like liars. I don’t like kidnappers. And I _don’t_ like abusers. If you ever come near my son again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do. As for your stepson...” His eyes flick over to Gene and Tony for a second, to the bruise on Gene’s face and the determined look on Tony’s, and he makes his decision. “As long as he’s here, he’s under Stark International’s protection.” He reaches into his pocket and hits a button on his car keys; Tony has one too, so he knows exactly what he’s reaching for (even if he never uses his own. Iron Man doesn’t need a panic button).

“You can’t do that,” Zhang says, wiping blood from under his nose. Tony hopes his dad hit him hard enough to break it.

“I can and I will.” Howard’s eyes are steely. “My men will escort you out.” And right on cue, the door opens and three of his bodyguards step in.

“You’ve just made a powerful enemy, Stark,” Zhang snarls as the bodyguards lead him out.

“So have you.” The two men stare each other down until Zhang is taken out of the room.

Pepper breaks the silence first. “That. Was. _Awesome_!” She’s actually beaming. “That was so cool! I can’t _believe_ it, I swear I thought if anyone was going to punch him it would have been Gene, but seriously, Mr. Stark, that was great!”

Howard sighs. “I wish I hadn’t, to tell you the truth. I let my anger get the better of me.”

“It was still pretty cool,” Rhodey says, and grins.

“Violence doesn’t solve problems, all it does is create more,” Howard says, and shakes his head.

Gene lets out a short, barking laugh. “I don’t think I can possibly have any _more_ problems where Zhang’s concerned. So I say you did good with the violence, Stark.”

“I’m not looking for your approval,” Howard says, and he sounds so withering that despite his speech to Zhang, Tony thinks that Gene’s predicament really didn’t play a part in his decision at all. Gene merely shrugs, looking indifferent. Weirdly, Tony’s the one feeling hurt.

"James. Pepper. Could we have the room for a moment, please?" Howard asks, pleasantly enough, but it's pretty clear that it's not a request. Pepper looks like she's about to protest; Rhodey just shakes his head once at her, sharply, and she gets the message. She leaves, following Rhodey, but not before shooting Tony a you-better-spill-the-beans-later-or- _else_ look.

"Should I go, too?" Gene asks, his tone dry.

"This concerns you. _Both_ of you," Howard says, and Tony at least has the good grace to look sheepish. Despite that, he's still standing next to Gene.

Gene rubs at the bruising area on his face. "Go on, then."

"Anthony," Howard says, and Tony knows he's in deep shit because his father's broken out his full name twice in as many days, "you deliberately disobeyed me. You were in here, alone, after I specifically said I didn't want _anyone_ alone with him."

"Dad, Pepper was in here with me, she'd just gone to the bathroom for a minute--"

"Then you should have left the room too."

"What, so Zhang could get in here alone instead? It's a good thing I _was_ in here, otherwise--"

"Oh, will you stop trying to fight my battles for me, Stark?" Gene snaps. "I could have taken care of it on my own."

" _You're not helping_ ," Tony says through his teeth. Gene elbows him in the ribs. Tony elbows him back.

Howard intervenes before a fistfight breaks out. “Behave,” he says, and both teenagers cross their arms and glare - but they stop fighting.

“I suppose I should thank you for kicking him out,” Gene says grudgingly.

“I didn’t do it for you, so maybe I’m not the one you should be thanking,” Howard says. Tony can tell that Gene’s giving him a sidelong glance; he continues to stare resolutely ahead, right at his father. “I meant what I said; as long as you’re here, you’re under Stark protection. But I won’t make any promises about what happens when you leave. _Is that understood_.”

“Perfectly,” Gene says, a fist clenched by his side, and Tony notices the tension in the room ratchet up. For all his talk about vengeance not being worth it, it’s clear that Howard Stark _hates_ Gene Khan, and has for quite some time. Tony’s seized with a pang of guilt about putting his father in this position - to ensure the safety of his former kidnapper in order to make his son happy.

And Tony doesn’t know what to do.

He loves his dad, and after Gene’s betrayal he hadn’t dared to think that for once his former friend had told him the truth about something that actually matters. But the one time he hadn’t had faith, he should have, because Tony has his dad back.

He should hate Gene. He really should hate the power-mad, kidnapping, manipulative bastard who’s the reason his life has gone so far off the rails. And God knows he’s trying. God knows that he’d resolutely tried to block any memory of their friendship and other associated activities out, unless they could be used as fuel to make him hate Gene even more. He’d very nearly succeeded, too, but then five long goddamn days ago the bastard had shown up and collapsed in the Armory, and God help him but Tony had started remembering why he liked having Gene around. For approximately a picosecond.

And then his dad was back and Gene was an asshole and he got over it.

Until three days later when Gene had shown up again, bloodied, begging for either help or death.

And here Tony is, halfway smitten with him again, getting caught making out with him by the one person he’s least able to deal with finding that out that way, protecting him from Zhang and his dad and whatever Rhodey will do to him if he ever finds out how deep Gene’s hooks have gotten into Tony’s brain.

For the first time in a very long time, Tony Stark has no idea what to do.

"Okay," Tony says, half to himself, then raises his voice. "Is that it? 'Cause I have somewhere I need to be."

"Tony--" his dad says.

Tony shakes his head. "Nope. I gotta go. You two hash out what you have to hash out. Kinda crowded in here for me anyway," he says, trying to smile and not quite making it, before he darts out of the room.

He has to go somewhere else to think - the whole of Stark Tower suddenly feels claustrophobic - and he knows just the place.

*

Gene knows better than to ask what he had done to make Tony suddenly balk and run out of the room; a better question would be what _hadn’t_ he done. Tony has every reason to hate him, especially with exhibit A being his presumed-dead dad and all the associated baggage thereof.

Howard apparently doesn’t know better - or knows better, and asks anyway. “What did you _do_ to him?” he says, glancing towards the door after it had shut and Tony’s footsteps had disappeared down the hallway.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” Gene says, and for a second even he’s not sure if he’s talking about the quest for the rings or his prolonged assault on Tony’s mental health. He speaks almost without intending to; words are fountaining out of him again and he can’t stop them even though he really should. “His crush on me was obvious. It was only natural for me to exploit it - what kind of Khan would I be if I passed up such an obvious advantage?”

Then he hears Howard say, “I have no idea what kind of Khan you’d be, but you’d be a better _person,_ ” and _that_ makes his eyes sting, and he looks down because he hasn’t cried in front of anyone since he was six and like _hell_ he’s going to break that streak in front of Howard Stark.

“I know it burns you to have to protect me, but don’t worry,” Gene says, practically spitting the words. “I’ll either get better or I’ll die, one or the other, but either way it’s going to happen soon. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Both of you. I can stop being a thorn in the side of the Starks.”

Howard is silent for a moment. “How bad is it?”

“What do you care?”

“Humor me.”

“I asked your son to kill me,” Gene says after a moment, and he feels the itch at the bottom of his lungs that means he’s going to have a coughing fit soon. “Now I think it would have been the more merciful option.”

“If he hated you - _really_ hated you - he would have.”

“What are you saying?” Gene looks up.

“You don’t get to be in my position by being unobservant,” Howard says. “I’ve never seen him act so protective of anyone. And, well. There was last night.”

“If you’d failed to observe _that_ , you’d need your eyes checked,” Gene says wryly.

“That said. I can usually figure out what’s going on in his head; we’re too alike that way.” He narrows his eyes at Gene. “And it might hurt to hear this, but you two are cut from the same cloth, and that bothers me. It _especially_ bothers me because you’re good at hiding your emotions, and Tony’s not. So since I can’t get a good read on you, I have to ask you directly.” He takes a breath. “Do you love him?”

Gene doesn’t respond.

Again: “Do you?”

He thinks, because he’s not sure. He thinks about the clear-cut manipulation it had been at first, the child’s play of making Stark fall in love with him; the morning he realized he was actually looking forward to going to school because Stark was going to be there; the adventure on the glacier and the giddy, adrenaline-fueled laughter of barely making it into the temple alive; the ice from the tunnel wall pressing against his skin the first time Stark had kissed him; the first time he realized he had started to refer to him as _Tony_ and not _Stark_ in his own head, and then out loud; watching, or pretending to watch, stupid adventure movies; the stab of guilt upon discovering the arc reactor in Tony’s chest; the despair and wild anger and instant regret of revealing himself as the Mandarin, and the flicker of pain in Tony’s eyes that had matched the one he’d felt when seeing Tony don the Iron Man armor; the panic attack he’d had in Shanghai when he thought he’d seen Tony looking for him; the constant, lingering doubt that he had been doing the right thing; the fight that had ended in him using the seventh ring to get Tony to work with him, just for a little while; the implicit trust he’d had in Tony, who had come to wake him from that nightmare; the instinctive homing into the Armory when Doom’s might had been too much for him; the knife he’d felt in his heart every time Tony had called him a monster; the words he’d never said because they wouldn’t be of any use anymore.

“I’m not quite sure what that feels like,” Gene says, because that’s safer than saying _yes_.

Howard doesn’t say anything; it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that he’s wary of that answer. He turns to leave.

“Before you go,” Gene says, and Howard turns back in his direction. “I know this doesn’t fix anything. But I’m sorry. I’d do it differently, if I could. Not that it matters. And for what it’s worth - you were a better father to me than Zhang ever was.”

There’s silence again. “Your apology has been noted,” Howard says, and leaves.

Once the door closes behind him, Gene practically collapses. It’s taken a lot of his strength to keep upright for this long, and with this much stress. He staggers back to the bed and manages to lie back down, a process which takes a long, long minute.

He’s not sure what’s worse - that he probably loves Tony, or that Tony might actually hate him.

_What does it even matter, anyway_ , he thinks, _I ruined everything_ , and closes his eyes.

Apathy doesn’t make the gaze of Yogthulu any easier to endure. It might even make it worse.


	6. Cardinal Symptom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation continues to deteriorate, both for Tony and for Gene.

It takes three hours for Rhodey and Pepper to get worried enough about Tony to go seek him out in the Armory, which is about an hour more than he’d expected. They’d likely seen him looking preoccupied as he left; he couldn’t quite remember if he’d passed them on the way out, even though he knew he would have had to in order to leave. At that point he’d already been living inside his own head, safely ensconced in the numbing torrent of engineering specs for new features for the armor. Thinking about that is better than thinking about what just happened, and it’s easier, too. He gets math and science and engineering. He understands ohms and joules and electricity and circuits; he did even before Extremis.  
  
He does _not_ understand people, and never has. Inventing things has always been his passion and his sanctuary. And right now, after the insanity of the past two days, let alone the past five, he needs some sanctuary. He needs something he can get lost in for a little while and still find his way back out of at the end.  
  
It’s probably not a good idea for him to be handling a blowtorch right now, but he is anyway.  
  
That spot of blood on the floor of the Armory has dried now, and he shudders every time he looks at it. It’s like a tangible reminder of where he should be right now, and yet he can’t bear to clean it up. That would be too much like sanitizing the environment, like it had never happened. It would be too much like forgetting for real.  
  
So he gets wrist-deep in circuitry, trying desperately to lose his thoughts in the orderliness and logic of ones and zeroes, resistors and processors. And as he works, there’s that thought process churning away in the background, even though he’s not paying attention to it. That’s good, most of the time - it’s like what other people do when they sleep on a problem. Only, Tony’s found that sleeping doesn’t really help with this problem.  
  
 _Oh, God, I think I love him,_ he thinks as he’s welding a new piece of armor plating, and the thought is both so natural and so utterly alien that the blowtorch drops from his fingers. Luckily, as soon as it drops the flame goes out so he doesn’t accidentally burn himself, but he recoils as though scorched anyway.  
  
 _Absolutely not. No!_  
  
He pushes the mask up from his face, suddenly feeling like he can’t breathe again, and as he turns to stagger somewhere to sit, his gaze alights on the dried blood spot on the floor and he feels very dizzy.  
  
“I do _not_ ,” he says out loud, sitting on the workbench and reaching for a soda can. It’s open; he takes a sip and makes a face. Warm and flat. But at least the disgust with the soda temporarily replaces his disgust with himself.  
  
Okay, so he’d had a crush. Big deal. Everyone got crushes. Rhodey had one on Whitney Stane, and Pepper had one on Justin Hammer. Big deal. Big deal! It hadn’t even mattered to Tony that his crush was on a guy; he had more important things to worry about than sexual orientation, what with Stane running Stark International into the ground and the whole thing with the Makluan rings. Though, he thinks a little guiltily, maybe he’d been a little more adamant about the rings than he would have been if he hadn’t been crushing hardcore on Gene.  
  
Big. Fucking. Deal. So he’d had a crush on Gene. So he’d kissed Gene once or twice or eight times. So there was that one time where they probably would have gotten quite a bit further than they already had without Pepper’s timely intervention (he’d been so mad at the time, but now he looks upon it as saving him from making a terrible mistake). So what? That doesn’t mean _anything_.  
  
That’s what teenagers are supposed to _do_ , make horrible decisions and never speak of them again.  
  
Except now he’s thinking about the way his hair would stand on end whenever Gene whispered anything to him, and the first bad decision of many that led to possible hypothermia-induced making out, and how jealous Pepper got because maybe she could see something between them that neither of them could or would, and the thousand other little indicators. And then he thinks about the spot of blood on the floor and he shudders and puts his head in his hands because he remembers brushing some loose hair off of Gene’s face before he called Rhodey and Pepper twenty-four hours ago, and he’s actually _crying_ because he’s scared of what this means, and he does not want to go through this right now, not here, not over Gene, and _goddamnit_ but he doesn’t want Gene to die but he’s not totally sure he can handle him living, either.  
  
And he _can’t_ put his dad through this. He just can’t. Howard Stark has been back for less than a week and he already has enough to deal with without this too.  
  
He wipes his eyes and takes another swig of the soda. It’s syrupy and disgusting but at least the sugar is enough to shock him out of that thought pattern for a little while.  
  
"I do _not_ ," he says again, more viciously, and pulls the mask down over his face again. But he knows it's a lie as soon as he says it. He doesn't know what he wants. Or, to be precise, he does. He's just not letting himself think about it. Because it's stupid and impossible and above all _stupid_ , that's why.  
  
He's the smartest damn kid in the world, he thinks, so why is he so damn _stupid_?  
  
Numbly he turns back to the armor plate he had been welding. Maybe he shouldn’t do any more work with the blowtorch. He picks up the nearby forge hammer instead and begins trying to beat the still-hot metal into shape. “I _don’t_ ,” he says, slamming the hammer down with more force than he means to. “I _don’t_ , I _don’t_ , I _don’t_ I _don’t_ I _don’t_ I _don’t_ I _don’t_!”  
  
He drops the hammer, panting heavily, and falls to his knees in tears, because every time he’d hit the now-ruined piece of armor he’d heard the word _Liar_.  
  
Just thinking it the one time had set his head swimming and his heart pounding and every time he tries to deny it, it all gets worse. And he can’t even let himself think it again. He rips the welding mask off and throws it, sending it clattering across the floor.  
  
“I don’t,” he says, sobbing. “I _can’t_.”  
  
Yet he does.  
  
It’s a truth as unshakeable as his very identity. He’d always had strong emotions about Gene Khan, one way or the other; he never thought they’d stabilize the way they have, with him denying them outright and crying on the floor of the Armory.  
  
Tony doesn’t want to go back there. He doesn’t want to look at Gene, because he’ll see Tony and he’ll _know_ and he’ll smirk.  
  
He can’t deal with that. He can’t deal with letting Gene win. Not now, not ever, and not on this. How could he have ever been so stupid, thinking that it could ever work out with them? He should have known. His stupid damaged heart should have known.  
  
It had never been anything but a game for him. Tony’s emotions were just a casualty. Tony himself had been a pawn.  
  
He knew that. He’d known it for months. And yet realizing it now, again, hurt more than it ever had before. He’d never let himself think it through that thoroughly, why the betrayal had hurt as much as it had.  
  
And he’d never let himself cry about it until now.  
  
Fine. So he’d cry. Just now. Just once. And then he was going to lock that emotion up and throw away the key.  
  
But just as he’s about to let himself properly break composure, he hears the door to the Armory opening and scrambles to wipe his eyes on his shirt collar, acting like he was going for the welding mask he’d dropped.  
  
“Man, we can’t leave you alone for a minute, can we?” he hears Rhodey asking, and he turns around. He hopes his face is dry. He can pass off a damp collar as sweat. A wet face, not so much.  
  
"Guess not," Tony hears himself saying. There's no look of sudden concern in Rhodey's eyes, so at least it seems like he did a good job cleaning himself up. But then again, Rhodey's been looking concerned about him an awful lot lately.  
  
An _awful_ lot.  
  
"Hey," Rhodey says, more quietly. "Everything okay?"  
  
 _It's so definitely not,_ Tony thinks. "Yeah," he says, nearly wincing at how unconvincing he sounds. "Everything's fine."  
  
"Huh, you should tell this armor plate," Pepper says, prodding at the smoldering remains. "Looks like it got on the wrong side of a train derailment."  
  
"I'll fix it later," Tony says. He won't. And he feels like everyone knows he won't.  
  
"Anyway," Rhodey says, trying to steer the conversation out of dangerous waters. He's no stranger to Tony's fits of temper, and usually knows how to calm him down. "Pepper and I were doing some research, and we think we might have a couple leads on what to do in this situation."  
  
"Really? That's great," Tony says with an excitement he does not feel. He feels hollow, and he's worried his smile looks the same way. There's a brief stab of guilt - _he_ should be researching, _he_ should be helping - before he remembers that he should under no circumstances give a shit about Gene's problem.  
  
“Well, come on,” Pepper says impatiently, “let’s go check it out!”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Tony says, and grabs his armor backpack. The city criminals had been a little too quiet since the rifts had opened up a few days ago; they’re probably still regrouping, but he wants to be able to be on call just in case. The fact that it means he’d get to beat something up if anyone did try anything is also a bonus.  
  
He smiles again, and this one feels more convincing. “Let’s see what you found.”  
  


* * *

  
 _Pain doesn't matter anymore,_ Gene thinks in one of his rare moments of lucidity under the eye of the beast. _Nothing matters anymore._  
  
He doesn't know how long it's been in real time. He doesn't care. It feels like forever, so maybe it has been long enough for none of it to matter anymore. There's a chill in his bones, and static in his ears, and he's wondering why he even bothered fighting in the first place. There's nothing he can do about it.  
  
Some desperate part of him that still gives a damn about surviving latches on to whatever it can to drag him out of this hell. His eyes crack open as he hears footsteps down the hall, and he sits up, trying to check the time.  
  
Four hours have passed. Things still probably matter. He sighs and rubs at his eyes and tries to forget why he had succumbed to despair in the first place.  
  
Fat chance of that, given that the cause of said despair has just waltzed through the door. Tony practically looks right through him, and he feels the knife twist in his heart again.  
  
"Good news," crows Pepper, "we think we might have some ideas about how to stop this thing!"  
  
"Really?" Gene asks, not even daring to hope.  
  
"Yeah," Rhodes says. "Pepper and I have been doing some research on Yog-- the demon thing," he says, amending the last word when he notices Gene start to wince at the name. Gene mentally revises his opinion of Rhodes a few points upward. "There's not a whole lot out there, but we've got a couple of leads."  
  
"Okay," Gene says. Tony's still not looking at him. Tony still hasn't said anything. And that hurts.  
  
“We found some stuff about something called an Elder Sign,” Pepper says, consulting her phone. “We’re still trying to find out what it looks like, but apparently it’s supposed to protect people from demons and Elder Gods and interdimensional hellspawn.”  
  
“Yeah, we’ve gotten pretty good at researching some _really_ obscure stuff,” Rhodes says, trying to make a joke. “All good preparation for college, right?”  
  
Gene nods, and smiles wanly. College is the least of his worries right now. “Thanks.”  
  
“There’s some pretty promising stuff about it,” Pepper says quickly, and Gene realizes she’s trying to cheer him up. “We’ll find that Elder Sign in no time and thrash that thing from here to R'lyeh. Right, Tony?” she says, and none-too-subtly jabs her elbow into Tony’s ribs.  
  
“What? Oh, yeah, no question,” Tony says, but it’s clear he’s still preoccupied. This is troublesome.  
  
“You sound enthusiastic,” Gene says, and Tony levels a stony glare at him. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be _happy_ to have me out of your hair.” That last part comes out a little more bitterly than he meant it to.  
  
Tony shifts his backpack on his shoulders. “I’m _thinking_ ,” he says, scowling.  
  
“Ah. I see. That’s your ‘thinking’ face. I don’t see it too often, that’s why I was confused.”  
  
“Now you listen up, asshole,” Tony begins, stepping closer to the bed, before Pepper claps a hand over his mouth.  
  
“Tony, _behave_ ,” she says, dragging him backwards a few steps.  
  
“So what’s with him?” Gene asks Rhodes.  
  
“I don’t know, he’s been snappish ever since he left here earlier,” Rhodes says, and shrugs. “Can’t guess why.”  
  
“ _I_ can,” Gene thinks he hears Pepper mumble. Both he and Tony pretend not to hear her. Tony might not actually be pretending; he looks distracted again.  
  
“Anyway. Thanks for helping,” Gene says, realizing as he does so that it’s highly unusual for him to be the conciliatory one. “I’d help, but I’m in no condition to go to the library and there’s a blanket ban on anything with internet for me.”  
  
“Seriously?” Pepper asks, frowning. “That sounds horrible.”  
  
“It’s not so bad,” Gene says, trying to keep his tone light and not think about the hell behind his eyes. “I’m catching up on my reading.”  
  
“Yeah?” Pepper asks, her eyes lighting up. “Ooh, what part are you at?”  
  
“Well, Daenerys is--”  
  
“Spoilers! Spoilers!” Rhodes shouts, “I’m not even done with the second one yet!”  
  
“Well, you clearly have to read faster,” Pepper says, frowning playfully at Rhodes. “I mean, come on, you’ve had it for like _three weeks_.”  
  
Tony’s withdrawn himself from the conversation again, staring at nothing with a slight frown on his face. Gene tries to ignore him, but this unusually taciturn Tony is beginning to make his anxiety spike.  
  
“I’m gonna tell you exactly what happens to Robb Stark,” Pepper says, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”  
  
“Oh, that’s just cruel,” Rhodes says. “I need more time, c’mon, Pepper!”  
  
“Fine, you get another week before I start dropping hints, and that’s a promi--”  
  
He hasn’t blinked.  
  
He _knows_ he hasn’t blinked, and yet the world is radically different.  
  
It all hits him at once.  
  
He’s standing, facing a wall. His head is swimming, his left arm is bleeding freely and the IV is gone and there’s a stabbing pain in that hand like he’s shattered several bones, his right arm feels like it’s been scalded, and he can see the burn beginning to form because he can also see what he’s doing with his right hand and that appears to be trying to choke the life out of James Rhodes.  
  
He can hear the electric whine of a charged repulsor right by his ear, making his scalp tingle with static electricity, and all of a sudden he’s completely in control again and he drops Rhodes and collapses against the wall in anguish and pain, slowly sinking to the ground.  
  
He only half-hears Rhodes coughing and sputtering and gasping for air, Pepper’s panicked shouting…  
  
...and nothing from Tony.  
  
Nothing at all.  
  
Gene’s curled up, half-on the floor, half-leaning against the wall, cradling his bleeding arm and sobbing, and Tony still hasn’t lowered his hand. The repulsor energy crackles like a live wire with the power being held back.  
  
“Do it,” Gene hisses at him, bloody tears blurring his vision, half-mad with the pain and despair. “ _Do it!_ ”  
  
Tony just shakes his head and retracts the armor. He gathers Rhodes and Pepper up, and leaves, smacking the emergency call button on the way out.  
  
Not once does he look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Merry Christmas, everyone! :D


	7. Preventive Medicine

It all happens without warning.  
  
One minute, Gene is laughing along with Pepper and Rhodey about something from those George R.R. Martin books; the next, he's ripping the IV out of his arm and _attacking_.  
  
Tony has seen the Mandarin fight before, all armor and rings.  
  
He has never seen _Gene_ fight before. Bare-handed, well-trained, moving with a fluid, balletic grace; it would be quite something to watch under different circumstances. Tony smacks the button on his chest and the armor unfolds around him as Gene lunges in his direction; it closes up not a moment too soon as his fist comes into contact with the armor’s faceplate. The force in the punch knocks Tony backwards, and he can feel the metacarpals in Gene’s hand fracture. Once he recovers from being staggered, he throws himself towards Gene, who deftly sidesteps the attack and uses the armor’s weight against him, catching Tony by the arm and throwing him to the ground. Not for the first time Tony’s thankful for the armor’s reinforced neck plating, and that it’s stronger than the floor.  
  
That throw was meant to kill him, he realizes dimly as he skids across the floor, temporarily out of commission.  
  
A wild yell from Pepper attracts Gene’s attention, and he turns towards her as she tosses water from her bottle in his direction. There’s a loud _hiss_ like a skillet when it hits him, and as he struggles to right himself Tony can see a burn forming on Gene’s arm that he doesn’t appear to feel. Gene goes for Pepper, who swings something large and heavy at his face; that brick of a book that she’d lent him. The force in the blow staggers Gene for a second, long enough for Rhodey to catch him off-guard and get in a couple of good rib hits.  
  
Gene shrugs off the hits and headbutts Rhodey, knocking him aside, before turning back to Tony.  
  
Tony expects to see rage, hatred, triumph - an emotion in that general range - on Gene’s face.  
  
It’s like a bucket of ice water down his spine when he realizes he sees nothing at all behind those eyes.  
  
Gene picks Rhodey up by his neck, slamming him into the wall, and Rhodey cries out in pain. Tony’s had enough; he raises his arm, charging a repulsor blast, holding it point-blank at Gene’s head.  
  
“Drop him,” he growls.  
  
Surprisingly, Gene does, and slumps against the wall, slowly sliding to the ground. He’s staring at his hands like he’s never seen them before.  
  
Then he looks over at Tony, who’s still leveling the repulsor at him, and challenges him to fire.  
  
Tony’s numb with shock; he lowers his hand, retracts the armor, and leads Pepper and Rhodey out of the room. He barely even processes hitting the call button.  
  
But he can hear Gene’s pained sobbing as he leaves.

*

  
  
They all stagger into the nearest exam room, corralling a doctor on the way. The medical floors of Stark Tower hadn’t been affected by Stane’s push towards weaponry; they’re still, as Howard had noted with pride during his post-kidnapping checkup, the best in the country. And all of them know Tony, so the request to check him and his friends out for injuries is met with little more than a nod and a refusal to ask questions.  
  
It’s remarkable how little they had been injured in the fight; Tony’s willing to credit that to one of Gene’s hands being put largely out of commission by the broken bones he incurred when first punching Tony. If not for the armor’s speedy deployment, Tony would likely have been knocked unconscious almost instantly, and the whole fight would have ended differently. And poorly. Pepper had managed to get out of the brawl without a scratch, and despite the fierce headache and bruising on his throat from being half-choked, the doctor informs them that Rhodey won’t suffer any long-term adverse effects. Tony can feel his own bruises beginning to form, as well as the lingering stiffness in his neck from practically landing on his head earlier.  
  
“How am I gonna explain this to my mom?” Rhodey croaks, and winces, his hand going to his neck. The doctor had warned him against speaking too much and straining his throat even more.  
  
“Via text message?” Pepper asks, and ducks her head when Rhodey glares at her. “Well, you _asked_!”  
  
Tony’s frowning again, and rubbing at the back of his neck to try and alleviate the stiffness. "Did either of you guys notice anything weird back there?"  
  
"You mean, _before_ or _after_ he went all River Tam on us?" Pepper asks. “I mean, it was _pretty_ weird that he was being so mellow earlier, but I thought it was just the drugs.”  
  
“Who knows, and who cares,” Rhodey says, continuing to massage his neck.  
  
“Pretty sure Tony does, since he asked,” Pepper says, and Tony stares at her. Her eyebrows go straight up in response.  
  
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything if nobody else had noticed,” Tony says. “I might have been imagining it. But I don’t know...I looked in his eyes, and there was... _nothing_.”  
  
“I was a little busy trying to keep myself from getting killed to take a good look at what he was doing with his face,” Rhodey says.  
  
“No, Tony’s right, though,” Pepper says thoughtfully. “Just before I clocked him with the book, I noticed he looked... _off_ , somehow.”  
  
“You mean, more _off_ than suddenly ninja-ing out on us would indicate,” Rhodey says, sarcasm in his voice.  
  
“Yeah,” Pepper says, either not catching the sarcasm or simply ignoring it. “Expressionless. Which is weird, for someone in a fight.”  
  
“And it sounded like he got burned when you hit him with the water,” Tony says.  
  
“Yeah, can’t believe that worked,” she says. “I guess I was right about the demon thing.”  
  
Rhodey gapes at her. “You mean you didn’t know for sure?!”  
  
Pepper shrugs. “Well, randomly attacking like that isn’t normal Gene behavior.”  
  
“I don’t think there _is_ such a thing as normal Gene behavior,” Rhodey says, before he’s interrupted by a coughing spasm. “Ow.”  
  
"I mean...usually he gets all talky," Pepper says. "You know, the whole 'I am the Mandarin, rightful ruler of the world, bearer of the Makluan rings, blah blah blah, kneel before Zod' thing he does. I figured foregoing his whole spiel was really out of character."  
  
“Pepper, you _really_ scare me sometimes,” Rhodey says.  
  
“Ooh! Why in this case?”  
  
“Because _that_ was your rationale.”  
  
“Focus, guys,” Tony says. “So what does this mean for the situation?”  
  
“Well...c’mon, Tony, it means that what was attacking us wasn’t actually _him_ ,” Pepper says, sounding disturbingly matter-of-fact. “So while we all have a lot of other reasons to be mad at him, because he has in the past behaved like a _massive_ tool, I really don’t think we can hold this against him. That’d be victim-blaming. I mean...it’s not like he _asked_ to become the chew toy of a being beyond mortal comprehension.” She pauses. “Unless he did. In which case, WTF.”  
  
There’s silence for a second. “You _do_ know it scares me the most when you make pretty good sense, right?” Rhodey asks. Pepper beams in response.  
  
Tony finds it difficult to concentrate on the people in front of him when everything is falling to pieces in his own head. His heart’s still pounding, and he keeps finding himself drawn back to that moment in time, repulsor primed and ready to fire, scant inches from Gene’s head, and the way he’d fallen against the wall like a puppet with its strings cut after Tony’s threat.  
  
He likes to think he would have been able to fire if Gene hadn’t dropped Rhodey. But he’s not quite sure. He tries to picture it, and feels sick; he tries to picture it ending any other way than it had, and feels _really_ sick. They all could have died in there, so why is he still so uncertain if he could have actually loosed the beam?  
  
Tony’s never actually killed anyone before.  He’s not certain he wants to start now.  
  
That’s the reason why he didn’t go through with it. Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself. That’s why he didn’t kill Gene, not when he’d begged to die, not when he’d been hurting his friends, not when he’d screamed at Tony to do it.  
  
_Violence doesn’t solve problems,_ he thinks to himself dully. But it would have solved this one.  
  
“Hey! Earth to Tony!” He looks up. He’s been staring at his hands for about a minute. Pepper tries again. “Tony, you okay?”  
  
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. The lie comes too easily.  
  
“Only you’re kind of Lady Macbeth-ing your hands there.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You know, ‘out, damned spot, out I say’,” Pepper says. “Jeez, do you _really_ not pay attention in English class or what?”  
  
“No,” Tony says, a little too abruptly. “I’m fine.”  
  
‘Are you _sure_?’ Pepper mouths at him when Rhodey’s not looking. He levels his best death glare at her. She’s totally unfazed.  
  
Tony looks at his watch. He’d totally lost track of time in all the madness; it’s nearly six in the evening. “Maybe we should call it a day, guys,” he says. Rhodey laughs a little, but doesn’t say anything else.  
  
“Good idea,” Pepper says, nodding. “‘Cause...I don’t think any of us really want to go back in there right now.”  
  
“Yeah, count me out,” Rhodey says. “I’ve still got to take care of some stuff at home.”  
  
“You gonna be up for research later?” Pepper asks.  
  
“Maybe. Text me, okay?”  
  
“Sure.” She turns to Tony. “What about you?”  
  
“Uh...yeah,” he says, because she’s staring at him like he had better say yes if he knows what’s good for him. “They’re gonna keep me informed about what goes on, I think. I can go home and help you guys research.”  
  
“Good,” Pepper says, “because the sooner this is over, the better. This is totally creeping me out.”  
  
“And you’re not even the one who was just in a chokehold half an hour ago,” Rhodey says. “My headache’s going down, so I should be good to drive.”  
  
“Great,” Tony says, faking enthusiasm. “Let’s go.”

*

Tony’s numb for the rest of the night; he feels detached from everything else going on around him. He can’t concentrate on his homework (school had been canceled for the rest of the week due to the interdimensional portals raining hell upon the city, which still had not been explained by the pundits to any satisfactory degree), and he finds it difficult to focus on the research that he’d set himself on the Elder Sign. Every time he tries to focus on the sprawling texts in front of him, he gets about two or three paragraphs in before his brain spirals off into crisis mode again.  
  
It is _incredibly_ annoying.  
  
Especially because short of Adderall, which he’s never messed with before and is not about to start now, he can’t figure out a way to stop it. Even his usual tactic of getting lost in something he enjoys - working on the armor, for example - hadn’t done the trick earlier, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to now.  
  
He wishes he could get his head out of this rut. He’s never had any battle flashbacks before, not like this. But then again, he’s never nearly repulsored a hole through someone’s head. He’s never felt bad about fighting bad guys; they all had some sort of powered armor or energy weapons, something to make the playing field a little more level. He’s never threatened an unarmed man before.  
  
It makes him feel weirdly sullied, like he’s crossed a line he’s not sure he could have avoided crossing.  
  
Tony gives up and dumps the remainder of his Red Bull down the sink at 2:30 in the morning. He’ll be utterly useless if he doesn’t sleep, he knows that. He just hopes he _can_ sleep, that his brain won’t continue spinning at a million miles per hour and keeping him awake.  
  
_I’ll sleep on it,_ he thinks as he turns out the light. Maybe in the morning things will look better. Maybe he’ll even see a way out.  
  
He punches his pillow into shape before settling down, frowning. _Pigs might fly._

*

Surprisingly, all three of them are at Stark Tower at 10:30 the next morning. Even Tony’s surprised that he’s there at all; he’d dropped off like a light and couldn’t remember any dreams he might have had, for which he’s thankful. He has enough nightmares to deal with while awake.  
  
Rhodey’s able to talk again without dissolving into a coughing fit, and he and Pepper had made some strides in their research, which makes Tony feel guilty. Even if the useful part of the research evaded their grasp, they had at least made more progress than he had.  
  
“You sure you want to go up?” he asks Rhodey, half-hoping that his friend will say no and giving him an excuse to avoid the room.  
  
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Rhodey says stubbornly, and for once Tony wishes his friends weren’t quite so willing to go along with his harebrained schemes. They’d follow him through the gates of hell, and that’s only ever a problem when he doesn’t quite want to go that far.  
  
They enter the room, Tony leading even as he wishes he were anywhere else. Gene’s lying on the bed, which is set at a 45 degree angle, and he turns his head to look at them. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t get up,” he says, attempting to lift his arm to wave. His wrists are pinned to the sides of the bed by leather restraints; probably his ankles, too, but those are hidden from view. The IV’s back in; Tony can read ‘Lorazepam’ on the bag.  
  
Tony really wonders why he hadn’t expected this. He’s stunned anyway. Judging by the silence from Pepper and Rhodey, they’re just as stunned too.  
  
“Don’t look so shocked, I asked for these,” Gene says, trying to sound casual, but he’s not looking at any of them. “I actually asked for the metal ones, but you need a court order for those.” He grimaces. “Sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t exactly myself.” His voice cracks on the last word; as much as he’s trying to hold himself together and keep up a tough front - as much as the sedative coursing through his veins will let him - it’s pretty clear he’s at the end of his rope.  
  
Tony’s brain is once again frozen. “You asked for this, why did you--”  
  
“Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Gene sounds like he means all of them, but he’s looking directly at Tony when he says it.  
  
"I thought you said you didn't want to be sedated again," is the best Tony can come up with.  
  
Gene shrugs the best he can with his wrists pinned, looking almost indifferent. "I changed my mind."  
  
If anyone had told Tony two days ago that Gene would have come around so radically about sedation, he would have laughed in their face. “But--”  
  
“I told you about the blackout from yesterday morning. That was the same. I don’t remember _anything_ in the ninety seconds between talking about that book, and suddenly my hand is broken.” He tries to raise his hand, which has been put in a cast. He looks at Rhodey, his expression guilty. “Sorry about that.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘the blackout from yesterday morning’?” Rhodey asks, a little sharply, and Tony knows he’s in for it now.  
  
“You didn’t tell them?” Gene’s tone is hard to read - somewhere between skeptical and surprised.  
  
“Well, there was a lot going on yesterday,” Tony says sheepishly. “I didn’t get around to it.”  
  
He’s waiting for the inevitable explosion from Pepper, but there isn’t one; he turns to see her examining Gene’s chart, her brow furrowed. “Tell me I’m not reading what I’m reading here,” she says, frowning at the paper in front of her.  
  
“What is it?” Rhodey asks, leaning over her shoulder to take a look.  
  
“It’s a...DNR order,” she says, raising her eyes from the chart.  
  
Tony frowns. “DNR?”  
  
Gene’s the one who answers, his voice calm and quiet. “Do Not Resuscitate.”  
  
“No,” Tony blurts out, feeling like someone’s dropped ice down his back. “You’re not allowed.”  
  
That makes Gene laugh, shaking his head. Tony looks appalled. “Is this a fucking _joke_ to you?”  
  
“No...no.” He shakes his head again. “Go ahead, forbid me to die.” He chuckles, his chin tucking down into his chest as his shoulders shake. “You’re such a controlling bastard, Stark.”  
  
“ _Stop it,_ ” Tony says, clenching his fists at his sides. He doesn’t know why this makes him so angry but he’s _angry_.  
  
“No, _you_ stop it,” Gene snaps back at him. “Look at me. _Look_ at me.” He glares until Tony meets his eyes. “You know how much power I once had, with the rings. How much control. You all do. And now look at me. I can’t even control my own actions anymore. At least let me control if they’ll let me die. At least give me that much.”  
  
Something about his turn of phrase sticks in Tony's brain. 'How much power I _once_ had.' That makes it sound like he doesn't think he's ever getting the rings back. It sounds like he's finally giving up, and that scares Tony.  
  
"So you're quitting?" he asks, trying to keep his voice carefully neutral.  
  
"I am not _quitting_ ," Gene says, shooting what would be a venomous glare at Tony if he could properly focus his eyes. "I'm taking myself off the board. That thing can find another chew toy."  
  
"And you think the answer to that is _killing yourself_?" Tony’s voice is cracking too. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s unbelievable, that’s why.  
  
Gene shrugs. "I'm not _killing myself_ , I'm just making sure if something happens, nobody tries to keep me alive. It's...different." He looks up at Tony. "You have to keep the rings safe, okay? Don't...don't tell me where they are. Don't even hint at it. If it happens again...if it happens and I get the rings..." He sounds terrified of what could happen, even through the Lorazepam.  
  
"That's not going to happen," Pepper says fiercely. "I mean, you're a douche when you have the rings, but at least you don't usually try to kill us. Don't worry, we are _not_ gonna let that happen. And we're not gonna let that DNR become necessary, either."  
  
Tony feels Rhodey grabbing him by the arm and steering him out of the room with a hand on his back. “‘Scuse us a minute,” Rhodey says, smiling, and quite suddenly they’re out in the hallway. As soon as they’ve left the room and closed the door, Rhodey’s smile drops, and he turns to face Tony with his arms folded.  
  
“What?” Tony asks after a second, utterly confused.  
  
Rhodey shakes his head, holds up his hand in a ‘just a sec’ gesture, and thumps a closed fist on the door. There’s a muffed “Ow!” on the other end, and then embarrassed footsteps away from the hall. He rolls his eyes, then redirects his attention to Tony. “I don’t know _why_ both of you think that it’s easy to pull one over on me,” he says, crossing his arms again. “I mean, I’m used to that kind of thing from Pepper; I even expect it from her. But we’ve been best friends since we were in _diapers_ , dude. I know you too well.”  
  
Tony sighs. “If this is about the blackout thing, I swear I was going to--”  
  
“Tony, is there something going on between you guys?”  
  
Tony laughs nervously. “What, you mean me and Pepper? No, we’re just friends, I swear--”  
  
“Shut _up_ , Tony, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Rhodey shakes his head. “You’re such a terrible liar. I should start playing poker with you, stockpile some money for college.”  
  
“I, uh…”  
  
“You know, I didn’t want to believe it,” Rhodey says. “I always thought you were smarter than this, Tony, I mean, damn.”  
  
“Yeah, well...so did I,” Tony says, feeling sheepish and deciding that it’s pointless to keep obfuscating. “What gave it away?”  
  
“You’ve been pining so hard I could have wrapped you in tinsel and used you as a Christmas decoration.”  
  
Tony winces. “That bad?”  
  
“It has not been good.” Rhodey rubs at his throat. “I just...I don’t understand it, man.”  
  
“Join the club, I don’t think anyone does.”  
  
“Anyone?”  
  
“Pepper knows too.” Tony looks down. “And my dad.”  
  
Rhodey swears quietly. “Your dad knows about this?”  
  
“Yeah, and believe me, he’s not happy.”  
  
“I’m not happy about it, so I can only imagine how he’s feeling.” Rhodey’s eyes narrow. “And I _know_ you didn’t tell him.”  
  
“Well, he didn’t exactly find out in the best way--”  
  
“Nope. Nope. I do _not_ want to know.” Rhodey shudders. “I don’t care, I’m not curious anymore.”  
  
"Oh, it wasn't--" Tony can feel himself going red. "Never mind."  
  
"You _know_ I don't need that image in my head."  
  
"It wasn't as bad as whatever you're thinking!"  
  
"I'm _thinking_ about it, which is bad enough! I'm changing the subject." Rhodey shakes his head. "So you promise you're not going to do anything stupid?"  
  
"Define 'stupid'."  
  
"Fooling around with someone who's tried to kill us?"  
  
Tony's stomach twists. "Yeah. No worries."  
  
Rhodey laughs. "You're a terrible liar," he says again, and goes back into the room. When Tony follows him, he can see Pepper and Gene stop talking a little too abruptly; maybe they'd been having their own version of that conversation. He hopes not.  
  
"So we're all in agreement, right? We're gonna kick this thing to the curb so hard it won't know what hit it!" Pepper says.  
  
"Yeah, definitely," Rhodey says.  
  
"I'll do what I can," Gene says. There's a long pause, and everyone turns to look at Tony.  
  
"Yeah," Tony says, smiling a little. "Let's kick its ass."


	8. Flareup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the shit proceeds to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, everyone, I was taking a nap.
> 
> On a serious note, thank you so much for your patience. Updates will resume at a (hopefully) regular schedule.

'Kicking its ass', unfortunately, required far more research than action, and none of it was research Gene could help with. He had categorically refused to let his friends take him out of the restraints while they were there, and he'd even tried to get around the legal requirement that they could only be on for a few hours at a time.

If Howard knew, he probably would have mandated ignoring the law in this case. Gene's still not quite sure how much Howard Stark hates him. He knows that Howard will never forgive him, ever - but he had seemed to express some degree of concern, earlier.

He doesn't particularly like being at the mercy of the Starks. He knows he's a prisoner, for all intents and purposes; as if that's going to matter in a few days anyway. He'd tried to deny it, but he knows deep in his bones that he's less  _ there _ than he'd been even yesterday. Every time he'd closed his eyes and reopened them, every time he'd blacked out, he'd felt less present than he had been, like he'd been slowly fading away. The sedative, of course, isn't helping in that regard. It makes it harder for him to keep thinking straight and harder to keep his eyes open. But what else could he do? If he's going to go after all, he's determined to burn himself out too quickly for the damn demon to get any further use out of him, and that would be his final victory. He'd decided that in a fit of stubbornness while trying to flex his itching, broken hand in its cast.

He'd flip that fucker off on his way into the abyss, one way or another.

But in the meantime, he talks and answers questions and laughs at Pepper's corny jokes, because there's not much else he can do. He tries to keep up a tough front. First, because he's a Khan; second, because he doesn't think he can bear seeing that lost, thunderstruck look on Tony's face again if he told the truth. No, better to lie to Tony Stark one last time, better to have Tony curse his name than be damned along with him.

He was determined to die, and take Yogthulu's foothold out of the world with him. He'd read enough about demons and elder gods in the three days before getting desperate enough to seek Stark's help to get a good picture of what he was now, as well as what usually happened to the unwilling mortal vessels of such powerful beings. It never ended well for the vessels.

But like hell he's going to say anything about that. Let them work; let them think they were helping. He'd always known this would be the probable outcome.

He'd just been foolish enough to believe, even for a second, that he was able to be helped.

When the weight of the Lorazepam finally proves too much for his eyelids for seconds at a time, he goes to his torture with a smirk. And he thinks, as much as he can tell around the static in his head, that it knows what he's up to, and it's  _ worried _ .

"Gene, wake up!" That's Pepper, who's tasked herself as official eyelid-watcher. He feels his shoulder being shaken, almost as if at a distance. How long was he there? Thirty whole seconds? It feels like hours.

"I'm not asleep," he croaks, forcing his eyes open. God, they're heavy. Everything feels dulled, as though his senses are being filtered through a fog.

"Well, not anymore, you aren't."

"You're funny," he says unconvincingly, smiling at her.

"That's what people tell me."

"Did I miss anything?" he asks, trying to sit up straighter and absently trying to lift his hand to fix his glasses. The leather restraint stops that cold with a sudden jerk.

"Not really, you were out for less than a minute." She notices Gene's abortive attempt to raise his hand and fixes his glasses for him. "There you go."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, don't mention it." He shifts his head to look at Tony and Rhodes. Both of them are sitting on the floor, Tony tapping at his phone and scowling, and Rhodes leafing through a book with an intent expression on his face. "How are we doing on time?"

"Got half an hour before they come to take your stylish leather accessories off," Pepper answers promptly.

"So that's half an hour before you have to go."

"We don't  _ have _ to go," Tony says, still scowling at his phone.

"I'll get them to throw you out," Gene says. "You're not staying in here if I'm not restrained."

Tony looks up. "They can't throw me out, my dad owns this building."

"Then I'll get them to tell your dad, and  _ he'll  _ throw you out. And probably ban you from the building until I leave."  _ Until I'm dead. _ The thought was painful, but maybe it would be easier if he didn't have to see Tony anymore.

"Harsh," Tony mutters, his gaze dropping back to his phone.

“I told you, I don’t want to hurt you anymore. And I can’t guarantee your safety when I’m not--”

“--tied down like Hannibal Lecter,” Pepper finishes for him.

“I’ll get worried if you start talking about fava beans,” Tony says.

“You’re not worried already?” Rhodey asks from his spot on the floor, glancing up from his book.

“ _ More _ worried,” Tony amends.

Then the door opens, and Gene abruptly turns his head away, because he doesn't want Howard Stark to look at him. It's the mulish attitude of a beast in captivity, and he knows that, and suddenly he has a glimmer of understanding about Stark's behavior during his kidnapping.

Everyone else greets him properly. Gene mumbles a "hello". This is not how he wants to spend what could be his last moments.

"Heard something interesting about yesterday," Howard says, trying to sound casual, and Gene tenses, despite knowing he can't possibly escape.

"What did you hear?" he asks, keeping his voice carefully neutral and still not looking at Howard.

"I heard enough to make me reconsider your asylum here," Howard says, his voice suddenly cold.

Tony's speaking now, trying to talk his father down. "Dad, no, it was an accident, nobody really got hurt, you don't understa--"

" _ Quiet _ , Anthony," Howard says, and the way he says it makes it sound like a death sentence.

That, of all things, that disregard of Tony's explanation, is enough to make Gene snap and level a blazing glare at Howard. "That  _ thing _ is in my head! I might be a bastard, Stark - as if anyone will let me forget that - but that was not my doing. I've paid for it. I'm paying for it right now. Who do you think demanded the restraints when the doctors came in to find him nursing a burn and a shattered hand? Who do you think demanded that DNR on my chart?"

A shocked silence follows his words. Good. Let them be shocked, let them be silent. Let him get these last few words in edgewise. "For Christ's sake, I came off worst in that fight, and I wasn't even actively participating! It was like someone flicked a switch, and suddenly I was trying to kill my friends." His lungs are itching again. "That thing is in my head, and I can't get it out. Not yet. But I'm handling the situation." He leans back, the anger draining out of him as quickly as it had come. "Go away. That, or switch my Lorazepam out for some strychnine. I don't really care which."

After a moment, Pepper says, cautiously, "We're your friends?"

Gene sighs. "Despite my best efforts. Is he gone yet?"

"No, I'm not."

"He is not," Pepper says, being helpful.

"Marvelous." Gene glares at Howard. "What are you waiting for, an invitation? I'll be out of your hair soon enough. Just...leave me alone. Am I brought low enough for you yet, or would you have me caged like an animal?" Any answer Howard would have given is cut off by a spate of violent coughing. God, it feels like knives are stabbing him in the stomach; he's shaking in his restraints, he can't double over properly and this  _ hurts _ . And then he feels the lump of darkness creeping its way up his throat, and  _ please God no, not right now, not in front of him _ .

It comes anyway; it's almost wriggling like something alive, and every synapse in his brain is screaming at him to just get it out. It's burning, this one, and burning cold; it's like trying to keep a hot coal in his mouth.

Eventually the revulsion wins out and he does his best to turn away before the blob pours itself out of his mouth. It's alarming how alive this one looks; almost solid, in fact. Pepper shouts and tosses some holy water from her bottle at it; it zigzags around the splash zone and Gene could swear he hears it hissing at her.

There's no way Howard hasn't seen it, since it's now in the middle of the floor, Tony and Rhodes scrambling to get away from the thing. Tony tries to stomp on it; it sticks to his foot like tar before flowing away. Gene watches it melt into his shadow and disappear, and he suddenly feels sick. He looks up at Howard, who has a horrified expression on his face.

“I told you,” Gene rasps unconvincingly, “I’m handling it.”

“That does  _ not _ look like handling it,” Rhodes says.

“I’m handling it,” Gene insists. “I’m taking care of it.” He sees Howard’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he has a sudden horrible feeling that his thoughts are written plain on his face and that Howard  _ knows _ what he plans to do, and that he’s going to say something to stop him.

But he doesn’t.

He just sees Howard’s mouth tighten, and the elder Stark closes his eyes for a long blink, then nods once, almost imperceptibly.

He knows. He can tell. And the only reason none of Gene’s friends can see it is because they don’t want to.

“All right,” Howard Stark says, apparently calm again, and leaves the room.

“What was that?” Rhodes demands when it’s just the four of them again. “What was  _ that _ , what just happened?”

“Yeah,” says Pepper, “ _ that _ was weirder than usual. Did you see that thing  _ dodge _ ?”

“No, not that,” Rhodes says, and Gene feels something tighten in his chest. “Tony’s dad was all worked up, and then  _ that _ happened, and he just… _ left _ . Just like that.”

“If I were him and I saw what just happened, I’d be getting as far away from me as possible, too,” Gene says, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s not funny,” Tony says, looking up sharply at Gene. Gene shrugs.

“Anyway,” he says, “you guys probably ought to leave. I don’t think that cough bodes well. And they’ll be coming in soon to take these off.” He raises his wrists a bit; the restraints rattle against the bed railing when he tests them.

“Yeah, okay,” Rhodes says, marking his spot and closing his book. “See you in a couple hours, I guess.”

“Sure,” Gene says.

“Bye, Gene! We’re getting close to a breakthrough, I just know it,” Pepper says, and follows Rhodes out the door.

Now it’s just him and Tony.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Tony says, and for one horrible moment Gene wonders if Tony, genius that he is, has figured it out too.

“Since when have you known me to do anything stupid?” Gene scoffs, trying to derail his train of thought, and Tony smiles sadly.

“I can think of a couple times.” He steps closer and takes Gene’s hand. Gene wishes he hadn’t done that; this is going to make it all so much harder.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Gene says. He very pointedly does not say ‘I love you’, because that would make Tony suspicious of why he’d be choosing to volunteer that information now (at least, that’s how he’s rationalizing it to himself). One more lie, by omission this time; why break a perfectly good habit?

If all goes according to plan, if he’s judged his own remaining life force correctly, this is going to be the last time he ever sees Tony Stark.

And he really wishes that weren’t the case. He wishes he were braver, he wishes he could ask Tony to kiss him one last time, he wishes he could come out and tell him what he was going to do with the possibility that Tony would accept it instead of trying to fight it.

_ Forgive me, _ he thinks, and it takes Tony’s reaction for him to realize he’s accidentally said that out loud.

“Hey,” Tony says, “there’ll be time for that later. Okay? No last-confession stuff. Bad for morale. We’ve got a war to win here.” And he smiles, and for a second Gene almost lets himself believe that they’re going to beat the demon at its own game.

“Yeah,” Gene says. “Okay.” He doesn’t believe a word of it. But if it helps Tony out, he’ll pretend.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and leans down to kiss Gene on the forehead. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

“Okay,” Gene says again, biting down on those three words all the harder and trying to smile. Tony waves and leaves, and Gene lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

He settles back onto the bed, leaning his head back and staring dry-eyed at the ceiling.  _ I am a Khan, _ he thinks.  _ I am not afraid. _

He closes his eyes, and wonders if he’s crying. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Nothing matters but this.

_ Come and get me, you bastard _ , he thinks as he feels himself falling away, ready for one last fight.

_ Come and get me. _

*

Tony begins to get antsy after the first hour and a half, and it shows. Something's been bothering him about that last conversation with Gene, and he can't quite put his finger on it. That bothers him, and it bothers him more that it had sounded like Gene had given up.

"You okay?" Rhodey asks, looking up from his book.

"Huh?"

"You're wearing a hole in the floor, there," Rhodey says, and Tony realizes he's been pacing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Tony says, and stops pacing.

"Huh, tell that to your face," Pepper says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony says, a little more snappishly than he really intends to.

"I mean, you look like you're ready to beat the hell out of another piece of armor," Pepper says. "And...you kinda  _ sound _ like it, too."

Tony deflates. "Guys, I'm...I'm sorry. This is just really wearing on me, you know? I'm worried about him. And it  _ bugs _ me that I'm worried about him."

"I don't get it, but...I get it," Rhodey says. "You're worried about him, but we're worried about  _ you _ ."

"Also, a  _ little _ worried about him," adds Pepper. "A little."

"A little," Rhodey says, conceding the point.

"You guys really don't have to be worrying about me," Tony says. "I'm not the one who's going through all that."

"Aren't you?" he thinks he hears Pepper ask quietly, but when he looks up, she's already gone back to her research.

God, he just doesn't know anymore. He's in a holding pattern, but he feels like he's being pulled in a million different directions. It’s driving him mad that he can’t do anything, but at least for whatever reason his dad changed his mind about letting Gene stay. Tony can  _ prove _ to him that Gene’s changed, once all this demon crap dies down. But he’s not sure he wants to.

_ This must be what falling apart feels like, _ he thinks, sitting down and scowling at his phone. The computer search via the datacore at the Armory hasn’t turned up anything of use yet, just some infuriating bits and pieces. Whatever mention had been made in the historical record of Yogthulu, more often than not it looks like it had been erased in some form of  _ damnatio memoriae _ . Tony had found it irritating at first, but he’s beginning to wonder if it wasn’t in an attempt to keep the world safe from that vile being after all.

He feels useless. He can count the number of times in his life he’s felt useless on one hand, and he feels useless now.

A nurse enters the waiting room, and he looks up. “Mr. Stark? He’s asking for you.”

Tony’s a little surprised, but he nods his assent and gets up to follow her. “See you guys in a little bit, I guess,” he says to Pepper and Rhodey. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay!” Pepper says, back to her chirpy self.

“Yeah, let us know if he’s come up with anything,” Rhodey says.

Tony follows the nurse to the door of Gene’s room, and he’s suddenly anxious. He still hasn’t put his finger on what was bothering him about their last conversation, and that troubles him. He’s gone over it in his head half a dozen times since leaving the room, and he’s convinced Gene had been trying to tell him something.  _ Guess I just didn’t pick up on the memo. Oh well. I guess I can ask him. _ Not exactly the smoothest move, but sometimes he wasn’t good at picking up on the subtle stuff.

He enters the room and shuts the door behind him. Gene’s sitting on the bed, out of restraints for now, and rubbing at his wrists. When the door shuts, he looks up. “Didn’t think you’d come,” he says, smiling crookedly.

“What else was I going to do? Leave you hanging?” Tony shakes his head, then gestures at the restraints. “Aren’t you supposed to be back in those?”

Gene shakes his head. “No, they won’t put me in them yet. Legal reasons, liability...you know the drill,” he says, and laughs bitterly. “I was going to wait them out, but, you know, time’s of the essence. Especially when your dad may be back to kick me out at any minute.”

That stings a little bit, but Tony gets it. “Okay. So you came up with something?”

“Been racking my brain,” Gene says. “When the drugs and everything else will let me. It was precarious for a while there.” He gets to his feet hesitantly, like he’s not used to walking; he holds out his arms to try and steady himself, and Tony’s almost instantly across the room to catch him before he falls.

“You know you’re not supposed to be within arm’s length of me if I’m not in restraints, right?” Gene says as Tony helps steady him on his feet.

“Yeah, but I’m also not supposed to be alone in here with you, so as long as we’re breaking some rules, we might as well keep going,” Tony says.

Gene laughs a little. "Careful. I might take you up on that."

“Hey now,” Tony says. “Maybe sometime when my dad wouldn’t toss you out on the street, or worse. Besides, you said time was of the essence?”

“Yeah,” Gene says, starting to walk around the room slowly. “I know what I said earlier, but...well, I had an idea. I think this all has something to do with the ninth ring. That’s how Doom opened up the portal in the first place. Maybe if we sever its ties with the ring, cleanse it somehow, it won’t have any power anymore. Then...maybe it’ll leave me alone.”

Tony grins. “That’s a great idea! I’ll ask Pepper if she’s got any ideas on how to do that, seeing as she’s somehow ended up as our friendly neighborhood occult expert.”

“Yeah. But...I think I should do it.”

“What?”

“I should be the one who cuts the tie, or however it’s done,” Gene says, turning back towards Tony. “It’s in  _ my _ head, after all. Maybe it won’t take unless I’m the one who kicks it out.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Tony says. “You said--”

“I know what I said,” Gene says, taking a step back towards Tony. He stumbles again, practically falling over onto Tony, knocking him back against the wall. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony says, taking his hands to help him up again. That nagging feeling from earlier is tickling at the back of his brain, just before it’s washed out in the pleasant haze of having Gene close to him.

“I need that ring.” Gene rests his left hand on Tony’s cheek. “You know I wouldn’t be asking if I thought there was any other way to beat this thing,” he says quietly.

“You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?” Tony asks, trying to laugh breathlessly as his heart races.

“Wasn’t intending to,” Gene says with a smirk, “but if it’s working…” He pushes Tony against the wall again with his right hand, and as Tony glances down at it he notices the bandage on his arm from where Pepper had burned him with the holy water.

For the third time in the past twenty-four hours, Tony feels like someone’s dropped a bucket of ice water down his spine when he realizes that there should be a cast on Gene’s broken left hand, the hand he’s been using this whole time without pain. He can see the pulverized remains of the cast on the floor by the bed.

“You’re--” Tony croaks, trying to fight his way back to lucidity from the haze of arousal. “You’re not him.”

The elder god in Gene’s body chuckles, still trapping Tony between him and the wall. “I was wondering if you were going to figure it out. He thought you might.”

“Wh--” Tony gasps for breath. “What did you do to him?”

“Oh, he did it to himself,” Yogthulu says, its stolen voice acquiring a subtle vibrato as it gives up all pretense of being Gene. “He was hoping to die and take me out of the world after he sent you away, but really he just hastened this eventuality.” It laughs again, and the sound makes Tony’s blood freeze. “Now, you’re going to tell me where those rings are.”

“Never.”

It sounds amused. “That wasn’t a request. It was a fact. I’ll get it out of you, one way or another.” The voice gets quieter, more sibilant. “I know you want him, Anthony,  _ desperately _ ...I’ve been inside your head.” And when it says that, Tony  _ remembers _ ; he remembers being defenseless under the gaze of the beast, remembers the pain, remembers being released when it found a better target. As soon as that had happened his mind must have locked the experience up, or Yogthulu had stolen the memories from him. His bones ache with the recalled pain, and he cries out. He looks down; little tendrils of shadow are wrapping around him, numbing his skin and sinking into it. He feels weak.

“Just give in and kiss him again,” the demon says, “and this will all be over. I’ll get the information I need, and you’ll get a final thrill before becoming my puppet. He didn’t even get that much.”

“No,” Tony groans, trying to squirm away.

“Okay. So we’ll do this the hard way,” Yogthulu says, and digs Gene’s nails into Tony’s skin, making him cry out again. It grabs him by the jaw and forces him to meet Gene’s stolen, empty eyes. “I always win,” it says, chuckling, and the tendrils of shadow grip Tony tighter.

“No means no!” Pepper shouts, bursting into the room, and flings the last of her salt at the pair of them. The demon flinches away from the assault, but the salt hits the shadows, forcing them to recoil and release Tony. Rhodey darts forward and drags Tony away from the elder god as he tries to get back to his feet. Tony’s lightheaded and feels nauseous, but at least all the shadows are gone for now.

“This is inconvenient,” Yogthulu snarls at them. “But  _ only _ inconvenient. Very well. I’ll just have to expend a bit more power than I thought.”

“Bring it on,” Rhodey says, helping Tony stand.

The demon grins, and it’s more evil a grin than has ever crossed Gene’s face. “Oh, you’re going to wish you never said that.”


End file.
